The Ride
by heralias2005
Summary: COMPLETE Love interrupted but never derailed. Can he prove his innocence before it's too late? Can she resist the inevitable ride? HrDratedM. Written preHBP. Pls rr. Thx.
1. Prologue

This story is written for my own amusement and in no way is meant to infringe upon the amazing copyrighted work of J.K. Rowling.

THE RIDE

Prologue: present day

The ethereal glow of the sun's rays were cut off as his shadow passed over her. Her breath hitched sharply as she looked up, filled with panic as she recognized his face. Immediately her mind engaged her heart in battle to keep the rising feelings at bay. _No,_ she silently pleaded with herself as her sight grew blurry with unwanted tears. _Not again, please!_ But even as her lips formed a small "oh" and she moved her head almost imperceptibly from side to side, she knew it was already too late…

It was a beautiful spring day. Hermione had just showered and changed into a lightweight, yellow cotton sundress after planting in her garden all morning. Now she was sitting under her favorite shade tree, on top of the knoll overlooking her house, curled up with her favorite book and a glass of lemonade. On the warm breeze she could smell the recently turned earth and the succulent honeysuckle vine just out of sight on the far side of her house. The sun warmed her arms and the leafy shade from the tree gently filtered the light to bounce off the copper highlights in her deep chestnut hair. Anyone looking at the young woman might have had to double take after the first impression of an angel.

With each breath she felt her heart swell with an almost indescribable feeling of rightness. Everything in this moment was nearly perfect. A smile graced her lips and caused her eyes to sparkle. Her life was finally on track and she was happy with the direction she was going. Contentment was an elusive thing, which had never come easily to her. But she had finally found it…after all of these years. Only one thing could make her life happier, but it was a dream long ago lost…one she could never have back. And she had learned to live with that truth.

And then, without warning, he was kneeling in front of her. His eyes held hers captive as she tried to understand his being there. But she couldn't. It didn't make sense. Nothing about him ever had.

Before she could even wonder how he found her, she felt the pull of his gaze deep in the pit of her stomach. His eyes. She never could escape those eyes. They warmed her as they made her shudder. She was trapped inside a delicious hell each time she found herself falling into them. She tried to look away, to push him aside and run. But she was barely able to breathe. It was a sure sign that she was losing herself to him. Again. The problem was, this time she didn't want to go along for the ride.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One: fifteen years earlier

It was an especially dark night. The moon, which usually lit up the grounds, hid behind a solid ceiling of foreboding clouds. An October chill seeped through the thick stone walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, permeating both the heavy cloaks of its occupants as well as their moods. It was nearly 1 a.m. and those still awake were nearly at the breaking point. Lack of sleep, mental and physical exhaustion and fear of what was to come brought out temper, tears and heated words from those who would otherwise be levelheaded and calm. And for those more hot-tempered, reason was in short supply.

The Battle Preparation Class, taught by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, was winding down for the evening in the Great Hall. Pockets of sixth and seventh year students assisted one another with healing charms. Others leaned against the cold walls to catch their breaths. And still others talked animatedly among themselves about the most intriguing topic of the night.

"Honestly, Ronald! You act as though it's the end of the world!" Hermione Granger stood at the back of the hall, firmly planted with her hands on her hips, as she confronted Ron Weasley through gritted teeth. "Dumbledore says he's on our side and that's just the way it is! Besides, we can use every wand available to us when the time comes!"

At 5'6" she may have only reached his chest, but to Ron, Hermione was a force to be reckoned with. She was, after all, the smartest witch in the entire student body – even though she was only in her sixth year. And they had been best friends for a very long time – he, Hermione and Harry. But despite the affirmation she gave him every day, she had a real knack for knocking him back when he got out of line. It was unnerving, really. Ron looked around for his other best friend for moral support. Harry, however, was at the front of the hall speaking with the Headmaster.

"But, 'Mione," Ron complained as he stole a glance at the flaxen-haired wizard on the other side of the hall before returning his gaze to her once more. "Why should we accept him so easily? It's not like he hasn't made our lives a living hell for the last five years!" He pleaded with the girl he secretly loved. Wondering if he would ever get up the nerve to tell her, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders, looked directly into her eyes, and tried to convince her to see reason. "He has hurt you, 'Mione. He has hurt Harry. And he has hurt me. How can you overlook the things he did – the things he said – and…and welcome him with open arms?" He searched her eyes, which did not waver, as he waited for her response.

Finally, Hermione closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Ron thought he had finally talked some sense into her and began to smile slightly. But then she opened her eyes again and spoke determinedly. "Ron, I haven't forgotten anything. I can't. And I don't know if I would even if I could." Ron opened his mouth to concur. "But, Ron," she cut him off, "Dumbledore trusts him. Besides, I'm tired of playing games. Don't you see? We aren't children any more! We are preparing for battle with Voldemort! We go to class all day and train for battle half the night. We are adults now and we don't have time for petty squabbles!" She turned slightly to stare at the object of their conversation. His countenance gave away nothing as he stared off into space, seemingly deep in thought. Hermione's brow furrowed in concentration, as though she was trying to read his mind.

"But, 'Mione," Ron interjected in a loud voice as he flung his arms in exasperation.

"No, Ron," Hermione raised her voice uncharacteristically. She snapped her attention back to the fiery red-head in front of her and gave as good as she got. "You know as well as I that he hasn't been himself this year. Something about him is different. Something important has changed. We might not know what, but it has. Dumbledore recognizes it. Harry recognizes it. I recognize it. And it's time you did too!" Ron stared at her, open-mouthed with shock.

"Grow up, Ronald!" she exclaimed pointedly as he started to sputter. "There is a battle ahead of us and we have to put our differences aside if we are going to defeat our enemy! If Dumbledore says that Malfoy is with us, then Malfoy is with us." She stepped as close to him as she could, her eyes flashing, silently daring him to interrupt her. She watched Ron's face drain slightly of color and his adam's apple bob from nerves before she continued. "This conversation is a bloody waste of time and it is over. I don't care to discuss it again!" And with that she spun on her heel, leaving in her wake a handful of curious students, an abashed redhead still as stone, and a pair of gray eyes – carefully masked under a swoop of white-blonde hair, following her until she was out of sight.

Morning broke at Hogwarts but the sky remained dark and menacing. Hermione opened her eyes slowly and tried to focus her fuzzy thoughts on the day ahead of her. It was Friday. That meant doubles of Transfiguration and Arithmancy in the morning and then doubles of Charms and Potions in the afternoon. Factoring in dinner and a night off from prefect duty (thank, Merlin!), she estimated that she should have a good solid four hours in the library before Battle Preparation Class began again. She yawned and stretched her tired muscles as she weakly laughed. If anyone had told her on that day six years ago, when she received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, that she would soon be fighting the evil of the wizarding world, she would have pitched the letter without so much as a 'no thank you.'

"No matter," she whispered aloud. "The time is nearly here and I must be strong enough to do what is expected of me." With one last wish for another hour of sleep, she dragged herself from her four-poster bed, careful not to wake the others, and walked slowly to the bathroom. Mindlessly, she showered and carelessly threw her hair back into a band. Then she dressed, grabbed her bag and headed from her room. The dark and chilly common room told her that everyone else in Gryffindor tower was still asleep. "Pleasant dreams," she whispered to the rest of her housemates before lighting the fire in the hearth for them and slipping through the portrait hole into the hallway of the vast castle.

She had to get to the library. The late night class they had all been taking with Dumbledore had left her precious little time to finish her course work. And though she had completed her minor assignments for the remainder of the term, she still had a great amount of research ahead of her for final papers and projects. A jump on tonight's four-hour vigil would help her catch up – even if just a little bit.

After stopping at the Great Hall for a muffin to carry along, Hermione continued her solitary trek to the library. She was comforted by the silence of the early morning. She wished the rest of her life could be so peaceful. But there was work to be done: schoolwork, prefect responsibilities, battle training. And, of course, there were her two best friends. She sighed as she thought of Harry and Ron. Being friends with them was wonderful, but rarely peaceful. They were forever in some scrape or another. And where Harry was now gentle and understanding with her, it seemed Ron lived to disagree with her over this, that _and_ the other. Ever since the end of 4th year she and he had seen eye-to-eye on few matters and his bizarre need to argue with her did nothing but annoy her greatly. Would he never grow up?

She entered the library, even before Madame Pince, and continued to ruminate on her life. She thought of her parents back home, of her studies, and her accomplishments. She was at the top of her class and of that she was proud. She had Harry and Ron to share adventures with every day and Crookshanks to keep her company every night. She knew she was lucky. And yet, something was missing. She didn't feel completely content with her life but she couldn't understand why. "Enough of these foolish thoughts," she admonished herself as she continued to prep the library for opening.

Madame Pince had informed Hermione, as Griffyndor Prefect, that she was responsible enough to open the library if she arrived first in the morning. Hermione had taken her task seriously. After lighting the wall sconces with a flick of her wand, she made quick work of returning stray books to their rightful homes before settling into her favorite table in the rear of the vast room. From her bag she pulled parchment, quills, ink and an assortment of books. Her neglected muffin teetered dangerously on the edge of her workspace. But she was oblivious to it. Getting down to task was never difficult for this bright young woman when studying was involved. She simply loved to learn. And she took comfort in knowing that every answer she could ever want was to be found right here in the library.

Yet, the answers she sought now about the uncertainty of her future were not something she could research in a book. And she found that disconcerting. Twisting a stray curl with her finger, she slipped into deeper thought. When would the battle begin? Would she be ready? Would she even survive? If so, what would she do with the rest of her life? Where would she go? What would she become? What about Ron and Harry?

Hermione hadn't even been aware that she was chewing on the end of her quill instead of writing with it until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She came back to reality, but she was not startled by his presence. She knew it was Harry before she even looked up. They had a special connection: one that allowed them to communicate with a touch or a glance. And though words weren't always necessary, they would talk for hours in front of their common room fire some nights. He knew how to calm her down when Ron riled her up and she knew how to listen to his frightening dreams and offer sage advice only when it was called for. They were there for each other unconditionally. It was nothing they ever discussed or forced. It was just the way they were.

Hermione grinned as she watched Harry circle the table to sit down across from her. She was thinking about their first year. This bond between them hadn't always been so strong. In fact, in those early days, she had been an annoying know-it-all and he had been too overwhelmed with the new experiences of life outside of his uncle's oppressive home to pay her much attention. No, theirs was a friendship that blossomed slowly over time and grew stronger each day. And it had definitely survived lots of challenges along the way – most recently Harry's anger over the events of last year.

In fact, it had only been this past summer their understanding had reached a deeper level. After the loss of Sirius, Harry's godfather, he had tried to shut himself off from the rest of the world. But Hermione had pushed and pushed until he let her back into his confidence. Through owl post she had slowly helped him to move forward again. And then, at the end of the summer, they had been able to really connect after meeting with the Weasley family and the others from the Order to stay at Grimmauld Place at Dumbledore's request.

It had been a frightening summer for all of them. After not hearing anything for months, Dumbledore had summoned them to Headquarters (as they referred to Grimmauld Place) for an update before the start of term. The creepy home had been left to Harry when Sirius died, but Harry had not been allowed to enter it until summoned with everyone else. And being there again was difficult for everyone – especially the students, as they hadn't been told as much as they hoped. Coupled with the fact they didn't dare exit the dark halls for fear of what might await them on the street, apprehension oozed from every corner and every inhabitant. Never knowing if the battle would begin at any moment. Wondering if friends and family far away were going to be safe. It had been during that time Hermione and Harry had spent countless hours in close conversation and had come to a true understanding. It was also during that time Harry had started to take special lessons from Remus Lupin – lessons of inner strength, clarity and peace. And they seemed to have worked.

Hermione now smiled at Harry as she observed his aura of calm. He had worked hard to overcome this latest tragedy. He had a peace she craved but could not envy. She had never had to endure as much loss as he. She admired his strength, his courage and his heart. As her smile grew she felt her love for him fill her heart. She would do anything for him, her best friend. And she knew he felt the same about her.

She watched him push his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose as he sat. "Still so much like a boy," she thought to herself. But she admired the man he had become. At sixteen he was tall and strong with shocking green eyes and a thatch of jet-black hair he could never tame. Many hours of extra training with various teachers over the last month had honed his skills and toned his body. His determination was unwavering and focused.

Her smile faltered as she thought of what was to come. It had been foretold that Harry, alone, would face Voldemort in the end. She would, of course, fight by his side until that time, as would the others on the side of light. But she feared for him. Would he have the strength to defeat the Dark Lord? She shuddered to think of the alternative.

"Hermione?" Harry gently asked, breaking into her thoughts. "Don't think of it now. We can't change what's to come." He extended his hand to her and she laced her fingers with his. She marveled at his wisdom and they smiled at one another for a time before he spoke again.

"So tell me," he said as he leaned back in his chair and grinned impishly. "What was that scene with Ron in the Great Hall about last night?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry tried to stifle a laugh. "Didn't he tell you?" she asked suspiciously. At Harry's half-shrug she stated simply, "He was complaining about Malfoy."

Harry wasn't surprised. After all, this was nothing new. They had all complained about Draco Malfoy, school bully and Death Eater in training, since their first day at Hogwarts. This time, however, was different and Harry knew it. Albus Dumbledore had announced at the beginning of their class last evening – already a month into their training – that Malfoy was committed to fighting on their side, against Voldemort and his followers. And while Harry couldn't understand what would turn a son against his father, especially a father and son as close as the Malfoys seemed to be, he had accepted Dumbledore at his word. Both he and Hermione had complete faith in their Headmaster, even if they did not always understand his odd methods or cryptic words.

Echoing his thoughts, Hermione spoke. "I know it doesn't seem logical. But, Harry, Dumbledore must have his reasons. Why can't Ron see that as clearly as you and I?"

Harry knew it was a rhetorical question. Hermione understood Ron almost as well as she understood herself. She knew of his caring heart, unfailing loyalty and hot temper. She knew of his monetarily poor upbringing and of his struggle to be seen out of the shadows of his siblings and his friends. What she didn't know, however, was how deeply Ron cared for her. How those feelings fueled his temper before rational thought could intervene. But it wasn't Harry's place to tell her that. Not today. She was simply venting her frustrations. And he would listen.

"It's not as if Dumbledore has taken Voldemort, himself, into his confidence," she continued. "Yes, Malfoy is rude and arrogant and mean as a snake. But he is only a boy!" Harry cocked his head to one side and raised a brow in challenge. "Okay," she gave in. "He's not a boy any more than you or Ron. But I am certainly not afraid of him. And Ron shouldn't feel threatened by him either. He's worth ten of Malfoy in my book!"

Harry waited as Hermione bit her lip and furrowed her brow in concentration. Her voice sounded far away as she thought all the harder. "He came back different this year. Something has changed. Sure, he's still rude when you _have_ to speak with him. But he hasn't hexed us, played mean tricks or even called me foul names." She thought quietly again. "I know Ron thinks Malfoy can't be trusted, but Dumbledore is not stupid. There has to be a reason for this sudden change of heart. And I'm going to find out what it is."

Harry watched the wheels spin in his friend's head. He knew her determination would not be derailed and it worried him. Would she get in over her head with Malfoy? Or, crazily enough, might she befriend Malfoy in the process? He didn't know which was potentially worse. "You're missing breakfast," was all he said to her. He knew any other sign of concern would only make her more determined in her newest quest.

"I'm not hungry," she muttered as she stared at her untouched parchment.

"Then you won't be needing this," Harry said as he leaned across the table and quickly grabbed Hermione's uneaten muffin before she could protest. "Don't worry about Ron," he said as he stood. "He'll come around. He always does." With a quick grin he started for the front of the library before turning back once more. "And 'Mione?" He made sure she turned around in her chair and he had her full attention before continuing earnestly. "You might not be afraid of Malfoy, but you should still be careful. At least until we know his story, ok?"

Hermione nodded and watched Harry disappear among the stacks before calling out to him. "See you in Transfiguration. And don't worry, I can take care of myself where Malfoy is concerned." She laughed confidently. After all, she believed what she claimed with all of her sixteen-year-old heart. But as she turned back to her work, she nearly choked on her own bravado. Malfoy himself was leaning across the desk, his face mere inches from her own, his gray eyes capturing hers like a pin through the wings of a butterfly. An odd pulling sensation made its way into her stomach and she found it difficult to breathe. It was if she were falling into his eyes…his beautiful and dangerous eyes.

"Hello, Hermione," he whispered with a smirk, before watching her pale and sink to her seat in shock.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: present day

"Hello, Hermione," Draco whispered as he knelt before her. He held his breath as he searched her eyes for any sign of welcome. He had been watching her for hours – enchanted by the joyous intensity with which she planted in her garden, mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she walked into her house at the completion of her task, and totally undone by the curves she unwittingly displayed as she stretched to the sky before assuming her place under the tree to read a little while later.

It had taken far longer than he thought it would to gather the courage to speak to her. The years had added to her beauty tenfold and he had been tongue-tied at first sight of her this morning. Not that he hadn't seen her at all in the last ten years. He had. But his glimpses had been sporadic and had always been from afar as he couldn't risk revealing himself to her. And now that he had…he prayed she would understand.

"Hermione," he coaxed again as he observed the slight shake of her head. Her lips had formed a small "o" and he found himself suddenly straining to keep from touching them with his own. Merlin, she was gorgeous! The memories he held of that night fifteen year ago were stirring his heart as well as his blood.

"No," her thoughts finally found quiet voice. Surprised from his reverie, he watched her carefully as she fully composed her face in the span of a moment. "I'm sorry," she said as gracefully as she could, "but you must be mistaken. No one by that name lives here."

This gave Draco pause. He knew that Dumbledore had helped her to change her life ten years back. No more wizarding world. No more magic. No more contact. But he hadn't altered her memory, had he?

"Hermione," he started, but she interrupted him again.

"You are lost, perhaps?" she asked sweetly, trying to play her part. How had Malfoy found her? Dumbledore couldn't have told him. He swore he wouldn't contact her again unless it was a matter of life and death. He had promised to come to her himself if that were ever the case. Otherwise her location passed with him forever. Unless… Was he injured? Or worse? Could he have sent Malfoy to her in his place? No! Draco Malfoy would never have gained Dumbledore's trust again. Not after that horrible night. Of this Hermione was sure. Which left only one option: Lucius Malfoy had finally tracked her down and Draco was here under his orders.

She remembered vividly that fateful day ten years ago. Three years after the battle – during which time Hermione had completed her Hogwarts education and auror training – she joined her friends in the Order. Together they worked over the next two years to bring about the end of the Death Eater regime. And she had been a key player. It had been her information, which uncovered the Death Eater's lair. It had been her information, which led them there at the very time they would be gathered as a group in planning their next move. It had been her information because she had been the one tailing the every move of Draco Malfoy. And remembering those horribly dark and painful years was not something Hermione wanted to do again.

The capture was relatively quick and few lives were lost on either side as the Order had planned the attack well. It should have been a time of celebration and relief for Hermione, but the following day Lucius Malfoy escaped from the Ministry while awaiting transport to Azkaban. Hermione knew Lucius would seek his revenge on her…revenge for the downfall of his Dark Lord, revenge for the end of the Death Eater regime and revenge for the magical night she spent with his precious son five years earlier. So she said goodbye to those she loved and went to Dumbledore who kindly helped her leave it all behind. No more contact. No more magic. No more life as she knew it.

It had been a lonely and painful readjustment. But she had finally reached a good place in her life. And now everything was for naught – for Draco Malfoy, her first only love, was here under his father's orders to hurt her, probably even to kill her. And she was totally defenseless without the wand she had chosen to pack away ten years ago. The bitter irony of the situation was not wasted on Hermione.

Draco watched a moment of fear flick across Hermione's face before being replaced by a cool composure once more. Although he shouldn't have been, he was surprised by this. Whatever she felt for him after that fateful day and after all of this time – loathing, ambivalence – he never expected fear. Despite everything that had happened – everything he allowed her to think had happened – he couldn't believe she would actually fear him. Not after what they had shared. And yet, that was exactly what he saw.

Hermione pasted a smile on her lips and thought fast. If only she could get back to her house…confuse or distract him in some way. She knew she could get to her concealed wand and defend herself properly. Either that or detain him long enough to get past the apparation wards on her property. But getting that far without raising suspicion would not be easy. And the chances of him just letting her waltz away were slim to none. So she acted on Gryffindor instinct and stood quickly, nearly knocking him over in the process.

"You look weary. It is terribly warm in the sun this afternoon." She feigned concern as if for a stranger before she started to walk toward her house, praying that she could keep her steps even. "The main road is nearly a mile up my drive. Did you have car trouble? Did someone drop you here by mistake?" She forced a lightness into her voice. "It's no problem, really. I'm happy to let you use my phone." She nearly stumbled as she rambled on. "And perhaps a glass of lemonade will refresh you?" She knew he followed her. A silent prayer and a deep breath kept her knees from buckling as she focused on her door. "Feel free to sit on the lounge there in the shade while I get what you need," she continued to him. "I won't be more than a moment." And to herself she whispered _almost there_ over and over again with each step.

To say that Draco was confused about Hermione's actions would be mild. He knew she had to have recognized him. He knew she was lying – unless something really had happened to her mind or her memory during her absence from their world. But years of competition with her in school reassured him of one thing: she was far from careless, whatever her motive. And he knew if she got into her house, she would be as good as gone.

"Wait!" he practically shouted as she reached for her door handle. Any relief Hermione had been about to experience vanished in the instant he grabbed her arm and turned her around. The combination of his searing touch and her palpable fear sent her blood pressure through the roof. She met his eyes as the roaring grew to a deafening pitch in her ears. Memories of forbidden passion, cruel death and gut-wrenching loss whipped through her like a tornado. It was more than she could bear.

"Draco," was all she managed to utter in a painfully small and hurt voice. And then, like any good Gryffindor, she improvised with Plan B – and tried to think quickly about how to turn this dreadful situation to her advantage before she fainted dead away.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three: fifteen years earlier

"M..M..Malfoy," Hermione managed to spit out finally from her library chair. She felt her cheeks burn and her palms grow sweaty at the idea of being overheard. "What…what are you doing in the library this early? Shouldn't you be at breakfast?"

Draco liked watching her squirm. She deserved it after the things she said about him. Comparing him to Weasley that way! Yes, it was a throwback to his old habits, but old habits certainly do die hard. Besides, he had to defend his honor. He couldn't let her speak of him that way. And what's more, he had just noticed that she was kind of pretty when she was flustered. It amused him. And Merlin knows not much had amused him as of late. No, he certainly wasn't ready to let this little bookworm off the hook that easily. "Worth ten of me, is he?" Draco asked, ignoring her question. "I'm crushed, really."

"Sorry?" she asked, hoping to play coy. Cursing her stupidity, she tried to calm the tremor that fought to rip through her. And, damn him, Draco noticed.

"You wouldn't be afraid of me, now would you, Hermione?" he asked as he leaned closer to her once more. Draco watched her eyes go from wide with feigned innocence to narrow with shrewd cunning. "After all," he continued, "I am just a _boy_." He emphasized the last word for effect. "Unless, of course, you really can't handle yourself around rude and arrogant me." He nearly laughed as her already red face darkened with her own words thrown back at her.

"Is there a point to this, Malfoy?" Her eyes snapped to match her voice. She may have been caught at a disadvantage, but she wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of winning this sparring match.

"Your conversation with Potter was truly enlightening," he said as he slid into a chair opposite her. He knew he shouldn't, but he gave in to the temptation to make her squirm a bit more. Yes, she was definitely pretty when flustered. "I never knew I could hold so much interest for you." He leaned back slightly and cocked one eyebrow before giving her a smug grin. "And here I thought Potter and Weasley would be enough for you. You must be quite something if you need to bring me into the mix as well!" He let his eyes wander over her form slightly before returning to her face. "Kinky, I suppose, but an idea not without it's merit."

Hermione fought the urge to slap him. "Again, Malfoy," she practically spit nails as she tried to change the subject, "your point?"

"Well," he began suddenly in a pleasant voice, sharply changing to the direct approach in an effort to throw her off. "I came to talk with you at Dumbledore's request." He watched her brow furrow in confusion at his change in tactics. "But it looks like I was right," he added with a small sigh for show. "Hell would have to freeze over before you assisted me in any way. I guess I'll just have to go back to him for another idea."

He made as if to leave before Hermione's curiosity got the better of her. Whatever Malfoy's attitude, Hermione couldn't let her Headmaster down. "Talk to me about what?"

"Well," he tried not to smile as he settled into his chair. "Dumbledore said that I should ask you to catch me up in his Battle Preparation Class. Not that I need your help with any of the actual spells, hexes or jinxes you have been learning. I'm sure I'm quite proficient in them all." He ignored her as she rolled her eyes heavenward. "He just thought you could go through your notes and tell me which of them he has already taught you. That way I could participate a bit more tonight. He doesn't want me to throw something at a poor unsuspecting student that hasn't already been taught. I do have quite the advantage, after all." He watched her role her eyes once more before she commenced chewing carelessly on her bottom lip as she considered his request. Watching her do that gave him a strange twitchy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had she always done that? He couldn't say that he had ever noticed.

"I suppose that I could help you, since Dumbledore asked me to." She measured her words carefully as she spoke. She knew if she wanted to get to the bottom of the mysterious change in Malfoy she would have to make her move now. "But I don't have those notes with me. And we have classes in a few minutes."

"So," he leaned farther back to stretch triumphantly, happy that she was acquiescing so nicely to his request. "When can you get me the information?"

"After dinner," she said nonchalantly as she packed up her belongings. It meant putting off some much-needed study time, but she felt this was more important. "I'll meet you here just as soon as you can eat and get away."

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Draco asked Hermione as she stood to leave.

"No," she pasted on her best smile. "That wasn't hard at all. But I forgot to mention my one condition." She felt like smirking as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Instead she kept her face carefully neutral. "Dumbledore took you into his confidence easily enough but I want the truth for myself. You have to tell me what's really going on with you this year – before I give you the so-called assistance you require. And I want the whole story," she quickly added when he made to object. "Because if I don't get it, I'm not going to tell you anything either. And you can just go back to Dumbledore and tell him you failed to do as he asked."

She turned away again, only to stop once more at the corner of the stacks. "Oh, and Malfoy," she paused for effect before flashing him her brightest smile. "You may want to bring a sweater tonight. I hear it's going to be freezing." This time she couldn't help but laugh out loud as she heard him mutter what sounded distinctly like 'Bloody Hell!'


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four: present day

"Bloody hell," choked Draco as he caught Hermione in his arms, her glass crashing with her book to the steps of her porch. Now what? He lifted her and cradled her against his chest before managing to get her door open. Merlin, her hair smelled just as sweet as he remembered! Awkwardly, he squeezed them both through the narrow opening and kicked the door shut behind them. Quickly he headed straight down the hall and found himself in a bright, sunny living room. Carefully he placed Hermione on the big squashy couch and removed his robe to lay it over her.

Kneeling down beside her he gently caressed her cheek in an attempt to wake her. He noticed her dark hair made her face seem even paler than it should. But she was breathing so he figured she would come to in a moment. He sighed. At least one of his questions had been answered. She did know him after all. He stifled a shudder of remorse as he recalled the sound of her voice before she lost consciousness. He knew he was the cause of her hurt. And he regretted it. But why in the world had she fainted? It was completely out of character for her. And it was not in his plan! Now what was he to do? Wait, he supposed.

After staring at her peaceful face for a moment more, he stood to stretch his limbs and found himself looking around the room. Light, spacious, comfortable and practical. In addition to plants and matching squashy chairs with end tables, she had a desk in one corner surrounded by a number of tall, narrow shelves filled with books. He grinned. Hermione had always had a passion for reading. He looked closer at the titles and found, to his surprise, that there was not a single wizarding text among them. Odd.

He turned around to more closely inspect the room. Pictures, pictures, pictures…where were her pictures? He found a small one of her parents on her fireplace mantel and one of her as a small child on an end table. But no pictures of Potter or Weasley or anyone from the wizarding world. Odder still.

Fascinated by her home, Draco began to wander from room to room. Muggle bathroom, muggle bedroom (again, no pictures), muggle laundry room. He couldn't find anything magical at all. Even though he knew to expect it, he wondered how in the world she had managed without magical conveniences all of these years? More importantly, the absence of any pictures led him to wonder why she had gone to so much trouble to make herself forget about their magical world. He passed by her again and noticed that she hadn't moved a muscle since he laid her down. "Not a good sign," he said aloud. "Perhaps some water…" He exited to what he supposed was the kitchen. Again, all muggle. It was depressing.

He located a glass and filled it with water. He took a small sip himself and turned from the sink just in time to stifle a small yelp as a large ginger cat rubbed up against his leg. "Oh, hello, there," he said as he bent to stroke the cat. "You gave me quite a scare. Where have you been hiding?" The cat merely rubbed against him again and then sauntered to the back door where she begged with a meow to be let out. Draco laughed.

"You know, you remind me of Hermione's old cat, Crookshanks," he mused softly. He walked slowly toward the door as the cat scratched at the casing. "He was a menace, but she loved him to pieces." The cat looked thankfully up at him as he opened the door. He gave a small chuckle as he watched it saunter leisurely into the sunlight as if it had no care in the world. With a shake of his head he closed the door and turned to the living room once more. A cry of frustration escaped his lips as he realized his own stupidity. Hermione was no longer on the couch…and the cat he had just allowed to escape was now bolting away from the house as fast as it could!


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five: fifteen years earlier

Lightning flashed outside the library windows as Hermione waited for Malfoy to arrive. Never having liked storms very much, the current state of weather did little to calm Hermione's fluttering nerves. "This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself as she found she had doodled over a large percentage of a fresh piece of parchment. "What is the matter with me?"

"Must be me," the voice whispered in her ear, nearly shocking her out of her seat.

"Malfoy!" Hermioned shrieked as she tried to regain control. "What in the world is the matter with you? Have you no decency? You nearly scared the life out of me!"

Draco smirked as he took his seat opposite her. "Sorry, Hermione," he tossed in an off-handed manner. "You know me….mean as a snake and all." At this he chanced a look at her and saw her color drain for a moment. _Score one for me_ he said silently to himself with a smile.

"Why are you doing that?" she asked in a cautious voice.

"Sneaking up on you?" he asked. "Because you're an easy target and I never pass up a freebie."

"Thank you," she replied wryly before continuing. "What I was asking, Malfoy, is why you've been calling me by my first name. You did it this morning too and you've never called me anything but Granger or….you know." She couldn't bring herself to actually use the horrible "m" word.

Draco felt momentarily sorry for her distress but instead of apologizing, found himself relying on old tendencies. "Well," he cocked his well-training eyebrow at her. "I was trying to be civil. But, if you rather, I'm sure I can think of several other things to call you."

Hermione looked at him as if he had just grown three heads. "You are a complete ass, you know that, right?" asked Hermione as she tried to control her temper.

"Certainly," Draco replied, trying to think of a way to rectify the situation. "But even asses can be civil when they try to be and _that_ is why I call you by your God-given name. Now, you try it."

"Excuse me?" she asked in bewilderment.

Draco watched with amusement as Hermione tried to process what he was saying. "You heard me, Hermione. You try it. Call me by my name."

"Look, Malfoy."

"Tut, tut!" Draco grinned as he cut her off. "Say it with me now: Draco. Draaaaco. Draaaaacoooo." He drew his name out longer and longer each time he said it in an effort to be comical.

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched slightly and she bit her tongue to keep from laughing. But the sight of Malfoy's face all screwed up as he elongated his name was too much to hold in. And when she started to laugh, Draco thought his heart would stop at the lovliness of her face. Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks pinked ever so slightly. And her smile was radiant. "Alright, Draco," she said as she continued to chuckle. "Now that we've gotten the speaking lessons out of the way, it's your turn."

"My turn for what?" he asked as he continued to stare at her.

"Your end of the bargain, obviously. Spill and then I help you with class, remember?"

"Of course, I remember," Draco said, his features instantly darkening. "I was just kind of hoping that you would forget."

Hermione watched his body language closely. As he spoke his shoulders rounded slightly, he crossed his arms over his chest and his previously open countenance now matched the tone of his voice. This was definitely unexpected!

"Look, Draco," she started to press, but paused as she caught his gaze. He looked hurt. He looked haunted. He even looked a bit helpless under his cocky façade. She felt compassion for him stir within herself and she instantly decided to take a chance. "About our agreement. I have a ton of homework to do so why don't we just study for class tonight and then you can tell me what's going on another time – when you are ready to."

Draco measured her steadily with his gaze. What was she playing at? "Why?" was all he asked.

"I already told you. I have homework and…"

"No," Draco cut her off. "You're lying and I want to know why!"

Being a proud Gryffindor, Hermione thought she understood some of the feelings inside Draco at the moment. And so she treaded carefully. "Well, we are being civil to one another now. That makes us acquaintances if not friends on some level, right?" She held her breath as Draco surveyed her carefully before nodding. "Well I figure that friends don't push. They just wait until they are needed. So I'll just wait until you need to tell me. Does that make sense?"

Draco didn't know. He had never had any real friends to speak of. He had never found anyone to trust completely. This was something too new to fully understand. "A bargain is a bargain," he said as he shook his head. "Besides, I don't need your pity."

"Listen, Malfoy," Hermione cut him off. "I mean Draco." She blushed to her roots and Draco found himself beguiled by her once more. "Don't think I'm being some big girly pushover, because I'm not. And I definitely don't pity you. I'll help you tonight, but if you don't 'fess up eventually, I'll tell everyone who will listen that your word is as worthless as a skrewt without its blasting end!" She bit her lip, hoping her threatening tactic would work.

Draco smirked, watched her chew on her lip again and felt his stomach twitch once more. He knew he was being played. After all, he was a master of manipulation himself. But he decided to let it go – gratefully. "Alright," he agreed. "Tonight we work."

"Well then," she said as she opened her notes. "Let's get to it."

"Thank you," Draco whispered quietly.

Hermione smiled. She bet he had never uttered those words before in his life.

"You're welcome," she said sincerely. And to her delight, he smiled back.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six: present day

The eagle soared through the air effortlessly as it searched. Its wry smile seemed to curse each tree and shrub as the bright sunshine made for deep shadows among the foliage. Back and forth it flew, higher and lower, round and round until… The cat darted so quickly from one patch of trees to the other it almost seemed an illusion, but it was enough. With incredible speed the eagle dove for its target. Letting out a loud cry, it startled its prey and watched with triumph as the cat froze for just a moment in terror. The moment was all it needed. The collision was hard, but it was not deadly. And as the two animals reeled from the impact, they changed form. When the dust had settled, Draco and Hermione were tangled on the ground, she firmly in his arms. And despite her fierce struggle, he wasn't about to let her go.

"Let me go," she hissed through clenched teeth. As she fought to escape, she felt Draco hold her around her middle even tighter, nearly cutting off her air supply.

"Not until you calm down," he managed to reply as he rolled her over and wrestled his way on top of her.

"Bastard!" she spat as she felt his body press hers to the ground. The faint spice of his cologne jolted her senses as though she had been slapped. The memories of his touch and his taste flooded her mind against her will and she felt herself momentarily soften in his arms. Dear God, how was it possible to want someone you hated so much?

"You always were a charmer, Hermione," he grinned as he pinned her arms to her sides. He had sensed the subtle change in her body and it amused as well as aroused him. "Now be a good girl and calm down and perhaps I'll let you up."

"Bugger off, Malfoy," she cried as she struggled with all of her might to no avail. She didn't know what angered her most: her inability to fight him off or her body's immediate betrayal of her mind

"I'm impressed," he ignored her temper and continued to hold her still, his face only inches above her own. "An animagus? I should have known." He chuckled lightly. "But a housecat?!? Merlin, Hermione, couldn't you have chosen a more noble animal than that?"

At this Hermione went rigid in his arms. "How dare you?" she breathed incredulously. "You speak of noble when you don't know the meaning of the word! I'm surprised you even have it in your vocabulary." She trembled at the darkening of his stormy gray eyes but continued with vehemence.

"Lest you forget, _I_ wasn't the one who gave up what I believed in. _I_ wasn't the one who betrayed the people who trusted me. It was _you_ who deceived me. It was _you_ who turned against me and everything I believed in. It was _you_ who killed my chance for happiness when you killed…" Her voice broke on a sob as a tear ran down her cheek. She pushed back the others threatening to escape and lifted her chin in defiance. "It was _you_ who took away my life when all I wanted once was to give it to you freely." Her voice had dropped to barely above a whisper. "You are a cold-hearted snake, Draco Malfoy. You don't understand honor. You don't understand love. And you certainly don't understand nobility."

She watched Draco's face harden into a bitter sneer with every word. She had pushed him too far and she knew it. She remembered another time when he looked at her that way – before their friendship, before their understanding, before their love. She used to tremble in fear then. But no more. She had known his vulnerability. She had known his generosity. She had known his total surrender. But none of those could be found in his eyes now. Now all she saw was a reflection of herself. He had shut her out.

Mustering every emotion she wanted to convey to him into her voice, she lifted her chin even higher. At least she would get the last word before she surrendered to her inevitable death at his hand. "Damn you for what you did, Draco. Damn you to the pit of hell. And damn me for still wanting what can never be. Please," she lowered her gaze to his mouth before returning once more to the cold fire of his eyes. "Please," she whispered as if in prayer. "Draco, if you ever loved me at all, even for just a moment, kill me quickly so I can finally be rid of you forever."


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: fifteen years earlier

The chill of the October wind was nothing compared to the frigid temperatures of November and December. Draco paused in his reading to pull his cloak tightly about himself. He looked across the library table discreetly to study the intelligent beauty across from him. He smiled slightly as he watched her bite her lower lip in concentration. Gods! He got all twitchy when she did that.

Had it only been two months since they had formed their new friendship? It seemed longer to him. In that short amount of time she had steadily earned his trust, become somewhat of a regular study partner of his, and even argued on his behalf with those who challenged their friendship. It seemed impossible that he, the rich, Slytherin, pure-blood prince, had befriended the bookworm, Gryffindor, muggle-born princess. He didn't think of her as a mudblood anymore. He couldn't. She had proven herself more noble and gracious a friend than anyone he'd ever known.

And it shamed him. He had never been those things to anyone else…had never known those things from another. He marveled at her bravery, her loyalty and her goodness. He felt worthless when compared to her. But when he was with her, he felt as though he could be all of those things, too, and more – if only she would stay by his side.

He wanted their friendship to be more, to extend beyond the confines of school. But he feared for her, for himself. As long as Voldemort lived. And then there was his father. Draco shuddered at the thought of his father and tried to pull his cape even tighter. Now was not the time to remember. Here was not the place. But his subconscious mind slipped out of his control…

He knew his father would kill him the first chance he got once word of his son's betrayal reached him. But Draco was counting on the fact that his father's "extended trip" would keep him out of communication for a while longer.

Draco felt tears come to his eyes as he remembered that horrible day this past summer. The cold, dark dungeon below the main floor of his manor home. His beloved mother trying to protect him from yet another Crucio session "for his own good" at the hands of his outraged father. The ugly wrath on his father's face as he turned on the woman he called wife. The screaming. The curses. The pain. The blood. The flash of green light. Draco let out a strangled noise as he released the breath he had been holding.

"Draco?" Hermione asked as she noticed him pale and set his head down. "Draco, are you alright?" But she got no response other than rapid breaths as he continued to fall victim to his memories.

Lucius had sent his half-conscious son, broken and bleeding, out of the room immediately. Later, much composed and collected, he had approached Draco with a concocted story of Narcissa's jealous insanity and subsequent suicide. He had instructed his son that if he ever told anyone the truth he would suffer a most painful death. And by the Malfoy honor, even one tear over her death would mean severe and lasting punishments for the weakling he was forced to call his own flesh and blood.

Draco felt his stomach begin to roll. "Draco?" Hermione asked again with concern.

And then Lucius had gone out and gotten himself a mistress. Just like that. The grieving widower act lasted all of a month before he warmed his bed with some gold-digging tramp. Draco didn't even know her name. Lucius had simply come into the drawing room one afternoon and announced that he deserved a vacation with his new lover and The Dark Lord had agreed he could stay away until after the Christmas holidays. And wouldn't Draco be so good as to get his own things ready and get himself off to school?

The bile started to rise in Draco's throat. "Draco?" Hermione asked again. This time she was at his side and was shaking his shoulder in earnest. "Draco, answer me."

Sharply, Draco raised his tormented eyes to stare at her before shoving her aside. He raced from the library as fast as he could to seek refuge in the loo. There he heaved the remnants of his supper as he cried the tears he had held captive for nearly six months. "Damn, you, Father," he whispered between sobs. And he collapsed on the floor to purge himself of emotion.

-/-/-/-

"Malfoy?" a strange voice called out, rousing Draco from the light slumber in which he found himself on the stone floor. "Malfoy, are you in here?" Evening had fully fallen and it was dark in the bathroom. Disoriented and exhausted, Draco pulled himself to a sitting position and listened to the footfalls still outside his stall. "Malfoy, is that you?"

It was Weasley. What in Merlins' name could he want? "Go away," Draco said quietly.

"Are you alright then?" Ron asked, ignoring Draco's command.

"Of course I am. Can't a man use the loo in peace? Or do you want to have a pissing contest, Weasley?" Draco couldn't summon the energy to move and merely sat propped against the inner wall of his stall, praying the annoying redhead would leave him in peace.

"Listen, Malfoy, Hermione's really worried." No response came from the stall. "Are you coming out or not?" Again, no answer. "Stupid git," Ron whispered and then made his way back to the door when he realized Draco was not going to speak again.

"He's here," Ron said to the concerned face waiting for him in the hallway, "and he seems his usual annoying self to me."

"Ron," said Hermione curtly. "He's been in there for nearly two hours. I'm really worried." Her eyes darted back to the closed door.

Ron watched the play of emotions on Hermione's face and he found himself getting upset. He had observed whatever this thing between Malfoy and Hermione was develop for a couple of months now, but he couldn't just sit by and let her slip away from him. "Look, Hermione," he said as he took her hands. "I know you want to be his friend, but Malfoy has got issues and I don't want to see you get hurt by trying to help him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione exclaimed as she tried to pull away. But Ron held on a little tighter. Searching his eyes she asked him, "Ron, what are you going on about?"

"I'm worried about you, Hermione," he said sincerely. "You have such a good heart and you want to help everyone and now you're all mixed up with Malfoy and he's just not good enough for you – even as a friend – and Harry and I don't see you as much anymore and I, well I…" Ron swallowed and flushed to match his hair. And Hermione finally realized where the discussion was going.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione softened toward her friend. She shook her head slightly and wondered what to say. But she couldn't truly get her thoughts together. She was too worried about Draco at the moment. "Ron," she said softly, "I appreciate that you worry for me and I know we have lots to discuss. But we need to wait to have that talk. Right now, Draco can't wait. He is in desperate need of a friend. I need to be there for him. You understand, right?"

"I'm telling you, Hermione, I think he's okay." Ron really wanted to finish what he had started. But Hermione had other plans.

"Ron, I need you to do a favor for me right now, please." She searched his eyes, trying to make him acquiesce. "I need you get my things from my table in the library. And can you pack Draco's too?" She smiled reassuringly as Ron looked at her like a little lost puppy. "Please, Ron, I need you to get them and take them to the Prefect Meeting Room. Can you do that for me?" Hermione watched Ron nod solemnly before adding, "Thank you, Ron. I appreciate it."

Hermione turned and walked toward the door to the loo but stopped at the sound of Ron's voice. She turned to see him grinning half-heartedly. "You aren't allowed to go in there, you know. As a prefect I might be forced to deduct house points."

Hermione returned his smile. "Oh come on, Ron. I think it's only fair I get a little peek. After all, you did get to see the girl's bathroom a few years back."

"Don't remind me," Ron shuddered and turned to do as Hermione asked as this thoughts returned to that night. "Moaning Myrtle," was all the more he said as he put his head in his hands and continued up the hall.

-/-/-/-

Draco listened as Ron exited the loo. The last thing he heard before the door closed was Hermione's declaration of concern. He didn't want pity. He hated it. And coming from her, he wasn't sure he could stand it. He needed to escape and to do it with dignity. And so he got up and made his way to the sinks to wash up. After a few splashes of cool water, a scourgify for his teeth and a well-placed straightening charm or two for his hair and cloak, he considered his reflection. "Horrendous," he whispered to himself. "But it will have to do."

Quickly he crossed to the door, wrenched it open, and flew across the threshold, only to run headlong into Hermione. "Oof!" With a thud they went down, Draco landing unceremoniously on top of her. After recovering from the impact, they noticed the compromising position in which they found themselves. Draco smirked a bit as Hermione raised her chin high in defiance.

Please get off of me, Draco," she requested as primly as she could, despite her circumstances. Merlin, his eyes were mesmerizing!

Draco felt strangely stuck in her gaze. His stomach twitched as he looked into the chocolate depths of her eyes and saw fire sparking within them. "What in the devil are you doing lurking outside the boys' lavatory?" he demanded less harshly than he had intended. This girl was foiling his getaway plan.

"Waiting for you, you great idiot," she shot back at him, trying to sound angry, but succeeding in only sounding wistful. The feel of his body molding hers to the floor made her pulse race. Feelings she hadn't known before were coursing through her blood and she found herself at a loss for any other coherent thought.

Draco mistook the tone of her voice for pity and he instinctively hardened his features. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me, Granger," he muttered severely. His return to her surname acted like a physical slap and she winced. The look of pain on her features confused him. Had he been wrong about her motive?

"Sod off, Malfoy," she spit back at him as she struggled to escape their physical position. "I cannot believe I even cared. What an idiot!" she chastised herself aloud as she fought to get free. But he pinned her arms to her side. "Get off of me!" she demanded.

"Not until you calm down," he said as he pushed his body down to still hers. The softness of her curves welcomed him and he nearly groaned aloud. _What a moron I am. I should have known she'd never… Why am I pushing her away? Merlin, I don't deserve her! But I need her. How could I even consider…? _

As his inner monologue raged on, Hermione fought her own internal battle. She was angry with him but the look on his face told her more than his words had said. The intimate feel of Draco covering her body with his own was enough to make her quake with an indefinable need. Somehow she didn't even care that they were on the floor of a darkened hallway. She just wanted to continue to feel this amazing feeling he was giving her. She watched with confusion and anticipation as his eyes traveled to her mouth and back again to her own. Involuntarily, she shuddered.

"Draco?" she breathed in an almost silent question.

"So beautiful," was all she heard before he lowered his mouth to her own.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Present Day

Draco's features hardened as he listened to the woman trapped beneath him. How dare she say those things to him? What kind of monster did she believe him to be? _The very worst kind,_ he reminded himself. After all, he _had_ hurt her as she said all of those years ago. Then he left her to believe he had done the things she imagined. And after that… He couldn't bear to think of it now.

"Please," he heard her whisper. "Draco, if you ever loved me at all, even for just a moment, kill me quickly so I can finally be rid of you forever."

Draco's heart stilled in his chest at her words. Had it come to this – that she should think he meant to kill her? The gravity of his actions over the years filled him with their full weight. He focused on her pleading eyes and felt his anger at her words dissolve into bitter remorse for his own actions. _Merlin, what have I done to her?_ A hollow ache snaked through him as he struggled to find the words to tell her everything he needed to say.

As Hermione waited for Draco to make his move, she watched the hard lines of his face stretch in surprise before twisting in bitterness and then softening in….was that sorrow? An eternity seemed to pass as she observed the storm rage again behind his eyes. They searched her own for answers she couldn't supply. She felt exposed to her soul by their probing depths and it was worse than any death for her. This was the ride she didn't want to accept. This tidal wave of emotion he always dragged from her. Damn him, but she wouldn't give him what he wanted. Not this time. "Draco," she began. But she was cut off as he whispered against her lips before covering them with his own.

_So beautiful_… The words echoed in her ears. Draco's lips were soft as a whisper as she lay shocked and unmoving beneath him. She remembered then, how it all began. That day in the library, the darkened hallway, the confession, the plan, the trust, the heat, the release, the betrayal, the pain. It had been sweet. It had been bitter. And she had been forever changed. Never again would she allow herself to be in that position where he was concerned. As she opened her mouth to protest, Draco took the opportunity to increase the intensity of his kiss.

Hermione ignored the feelings beginning to stir in her belly and focused instead on the pumping of her heart as the adrenaline kicked in. She tried not to laugh in triumph as she realized her moment of reprieve. Draco had always had a weakness for physical intimacy with her. She remembered how easy it had been in their school days to derail his rantings or dismiss his worries with a simple kiss that held the promise of things to come. Oh yes, he could be turned to putty in her hands. And she planned to use that fact to her advantage this time.

Emotionally she distanced herself and slowly began to return his kiss. Hesitantly, she touched her tongue to his and reveled in the moan he gave in return. When he deepened the kiss she did not fight. Rather, she engaged him whole-heartedly in the dual he had begun. As his arms left her sides to wander down her hips, she slowly inched her own hands up his arms to the front of his shoulders. And then she struck hard and fast.

Before Draco could register what had happened, Hermione sank her teeth into his lip and kneed him in the groin as hard as she could. Using her auror training to her advantage, she pushed him from her, rolled quickly and sprang to a crouched position before firmly shouting, "Accio, wand!" With great effort, Draco recovered himself and staggered to his feet. But before he could draw his wand, Hermione was in front of him pointing her own directly at his heart.

Draco stood in awe of the warrior goddess in front of him. Her eyes were wild with anger and his blood tinged her lips. Her hair whipped around her with the wind, which seemed to come from nowhere. She stood, feet spread, haughtier than any Death Eater he had ever known. Her wand arm did not waver, though her chest heaved from the energy flowing from within her. He found himself beginning to smile at the Fury who faced him and fancied he would enjoy a playful duel. But any musings he may have had about her were cut short when he reached for his wand. "Expelliarmus!" she cried, knocking him back a few feet and hurtling his wand in her direction.

Without his wand, Draco knew he was at a disadvantage. Worse, the look in her eye told him he was in real danger and he looked around for anything to use as a weapon in his defense. But he went rigid as he felt the tip of her wand under his chin. "Give me a reason, Malfoy," she breathed dangerously. "Any reason at all to end your miserable life here and now and I'll do it without a second thought!"


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine – Fifteen Years Earlier

Hermione's head began to swim as she felt Draco kiss her for the first time. His lips were warm and gentle and they shot sparks to her very toes. Eyes closed, she felt as if she were falling, even though she knew she was already safe on the ground. But just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. Confused, she opened her eyes to seek his out.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his forehead furrowed. "I shouldn't have done that. I didn't mean to….umm." Draco broke off as he struggled to pull Hermione to her feet. He muttered curses to himself under his breath as he straightened her robes and then his own, never quite meeting her eyes.

"Why are you sorry?" he heard her ask. He stilled his busy hands and looked tentatively into her eyes. Relieved that he saw no recrimination, he was saddened to see tears swimming there.

"Because I didn't…I mean you never…It's just that I didn't mean to…ummm." He didn't know how to continue and he felt clumsy and foolish.

"Yes, we've established that much, Draco," Hermione replied, barely able to control the roller coaster of emotions she was riding. Straight from flying to thud in less than ten seconds. What was he doing to her? With a shake of her head and a tilt of her chin, she decided it didn't matter. She was going to take control of the situation whether he liked it or not. "Is it because you can't get past who _I_ am, Draco, or because you can't get past who _you_ are?"

Draco tilted his head as he measured his words. Merlin! She was intuitive. Slowly he reached out to take her hand. When she stiffened slightly, he hesitated. But then he continued and gave her hand a small squeeze once it was enclosed in his own. "We're friends, right?" he asked her earnestly.

"Yes," she replied, holding her breath.

"Good," he said as he nodded his head. "Because I think I'm finally ready to keep my end of the bargain." He noticed Hermione's eyebrows rise as she appraised him. "I mean, I don't think. I know. I need to tell you," he said. "I need to tell you everything."

Hermione's face relaxed as she understood what he was implying. "Okay," she said before turning, his hand still in hers. "I had Ron take our things to the Prefect Meeting Room." She waited for him to step forward to stand by her side. "Let's go there."

-/-/-/-

Draco waited for Hermione to make herself comfortable at the main table before he locked the door and placed a silencing charm upon it. "I hope you don't mind," he gestured toward the door. "Just don't want anyone to hear."

Hermione nodded solemnly. _Wow_, she thought. _This must be pretty serious_. She watched him linger by the door and wondered if he would ever speak. But she didn't dare disturb him. And so she waited patiently.

Slowly, Draco drew in a breath to begin. "You've met my father," he stated rather than asked – for he recalled only too clearly their meeting in Diagon Alley at the start of second year. At Hermione's slight nod, he cleared his throat and continued. "For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be like him. Strong. Proud. Powerful. Feared. He was the embodiment of everything I ever wanted to see in myself. At least, everything I _thought_ I wanted to see in myself." Draco broke his speech to measure Hermione's reaction. She sat straight and still, her only expression of concentration. Knowing she wasn't repulsed gave him courage to go on. "You see, from a very young age my father taught me. He trained me. He molded me. He…he…he brainwashed me." At this, Draco began to pace. _Merlin this is hard_!

"Although I couldn't understand why I was never good enough for him, I just knew I had to make him proud. And so I learned to value pure blood and wealth at the expense of those without them. I learned to endure hunger and pain without the smallest of complaint. I learned to hide my own feelings while drawing out the feelings of others so I could prey upon their weaknesses. And I nearly got what I wanted. I learned to think like him, act like him and truly _be_ like him…almost. And then he planned to break me entirely this past summer."

Hermione carefully schooled her features to remain neutral as Draco fought internally with the words to continue. The things at which he was hintingwere unimaginable, but she was even more frightened of what he was about to reveal. Had his father hurt him badly? Worse, had Draco truly become a Death Eater after all?

"This past summer was to be my initiation into The Dark Lord's ranks," Draco spoke with bitterness in his voice. "I was to be my father's greatest triumph – a gift really, a minion, a lackey to serve the purposes of the all-powerful 'savior' of the true wizards in our world. At first I thought it was what I wanted to do. And then…then I knew it was what I needed to do."

"Why?" Hermione's soft question jerked Draco from his thoughts.

"Why?" he responded in a harsh tone. "Are you really that sheltered?" he asked in honest disbelief. Hermione did not flinch under his angry stare. She had never considered herself sheltered before, but she was very obviously more naïve than she ever imagined.

"Power," Draco's voice reverberated through the paneled room. "Total, fear-inducing, gut-clenching, life-controlling power." He walked over to the table and leaned on it across from her. He needed to make her understand. "It's simple really. My father had it. I didn't. He owns me, just like he owned my mother. And when you are owned by someone with that much hate behind his power, you cannot and will not escape it…unless you die."

Draco stood motionless as he let his words sink in. _Please understand me, _he silently begged of her. _Or don't_, he changed his mind. _I don't know how I'll feel once I let you in_. He closely watched Hermione's face for any sign of rejection but saw only concentration. He dared not move or breathe as he watched her for fear of destroying the tenuous co-existence of their souls. If she ran from him, he would die inside. And if she stayed… He was so scared he felt nauseated all over again.

With a small gasp, realization dawned across Hermione's features. Her look of shock was an ironic complement to his of fear. Slowly but determinedly, Hermione stood and walked around the table to face Draco. She tilted her head back to allow him full access to her eyes. She had to make sure he was listening to her heart since he wasn't ready to hear her words of sorrow and comfort. And when she saw the flicker of understanding behind his eyes, she gave him her strength rather than her pity. "Tell me," she said to him simply. "Tell me about your mother. And then tell me whyyour father killed her."


	11. Chapter Ten: Interlude

Chapter Ten: **Interlude**: five years later

_The bastard_, she thought as she tailed him through the dankest corridors of London. _Why couldn't he have picked somewhere warm and sunny? Or at least dry and clean?_ She had been shadowing him this time for nearly a week. Hiding in trash-filled alleys, huddling in dark doorways. She hadn't had a decent bath or meal for as long as she could remember. She was tired. She was hungry. And she was pissed off. All because of the latest bimbo on his arm. And she hated herself for it.

The day she completed her Auror training, she had asked for this assignment. No one knew him as well as she. No one could predict his moves or anticipate his thoughts. No one but her. And so she was given the responsibility. And the endless stab of pain. For along with snippets of plans for Death Eater resurgence, she was treated to an endless string of his lovers. Blondes, brunettes, redheads. Tall, short, always curvy. Pouty lips with too much makeup. Whores. Every one of them. And she hated him all the more for them…for moving on…from her.

Once, they had been soulmates. Once, they had been lovers. And he had betrayed her. Five years ago. On that horrible day of battle, amid the chaos and fear, he had betrayed her as if she meant nothing. And he hadn't looked back.

There was nothing redeeming about him, she reminded herself daily. No hope for his soiled soul. Despite the yearnings for him she couldn't quite exorcise from her heart, she hated him with the intensity of a thousand suns. And so she buried those yearnings so deeply she could almost believe she forgot them completely. Because she desperately wanted to. And instead she focused on her anger for what he did to her and to all those she loved…to all those for whom he should have fought alongside her…before he turned both his back and his wand on them.

Yes, she hated him. And so she would follow him…him and whatever skank he had plastered to his side at the given moment. And she would betray him in kind, and send his sorry ass straight to Azkaban – or Hell – whichever came first. The thought had her smirking in twisted delight.

-

"You're home," Ron replied in relief when Hermione finally flooed into their living room after the passing of a full week. He looked his girlfriend over from head to toe and saw not the grime and fatigue which she wore like a second skin, but the utter despair she tried so hard to hide when she was around him. _Malfoy_, he thought in disgust. The man still burned his insides to near dust. How he should be free to roam the streets of London was beyond him. Often was the occasion he bent the Minister of Magic's ear about bringing Malfoy in. But Fudge merely shut his suggestions down with explanations of Malfoy's worth on the outside. As long as Hermione tracked his every move and reported all she learned to the Ministry, he needed to be free to conduct Death Eater business. And so she followed him. And so Ron was forced to watch her die a little more each day.

"I think we're close," was all she said as she brushed the soot from her robes. "This time I think we're definitely close." She looked up tiredly into the face of the wonderful man in front of her. Ron. Her Ron. Why he had stood by her after all she put him through would always be a mystery to her.

"I love you," he said, as if in answer to her unspoken question. "And I'm glad you're here. Come on," he said as he gently removed her cloak. "Let me draw you a bath, feed you and tuck you in for a good night's sleep."

Hermione smiled at him then with a genuine heart-felt smile. He was so thoughtful…so changed from all of those years ago. He never argued with her anymore. He was just there…whenever and however she needed him. She knew he loved her. And she was grateful. And, in her own way, she loved him back. She just prayed it would be enough for him.

-

Planning at Headquarters the following day was very productive. "They are to meet at the end of this week," said Hermione as the others listened. "But this time will be different. This time we can get them all in one fell swoop." Eyebrows raised and murmurings started as Hermione stood from the table. "As you know, I've been tailing the younger Malfoy for the better part of a week. Per usual, he treated me to the finest of meeting locales." Here she paused for the chuckles. _And the finest of his lady friends_, she thought bitterly. "Last night, on the final night of my assignment, I managed to get close enough to overhear just the conversation we've been waiting for. They're to choose their new leader on Saturday. 11 pm, sharp. Malfoy Manor."

A few gasps could be heard from around the room. After all, Lucius Malfoy was known far and wide not only for his brutality in battle but also for the expertise of his protection wards and spells. The thought of attacking on Malfoy ground was a small setback. But not one they couldn't overcome. "We can do this," Hermione said in a confident voice as she met the eye of each member. "I know we can. Now is the time to strike and end this once and for all."

Rallying cries went up from her fellow members in the Order. Aurors, Ministry officials and workers, housewives, teachers and students. She was proud to count herself among them and her heart swelled. At the head of the room Albus Dumbledore stood to regain order. Raising his hand he waited patiently until the last voice quieted. "Ms. Granger is right," he said in his ever-wise tone. "There is much to plan. Come, let us begin." With a nod to the affirmative, Hermione took her place at the table, once more by Ron's side.

-

The week flew by for both Hermione and Ron as the final plans for attack were made. Hermione, as an Auror, would have a greater role to play in the lead of the evening. Ron, as a Ministry worker, would be part of the masses to follow the initial security breach. They were confident, yes, but nervous of the last skirmish to come.

On Friday evening, Albus called an early end to the night. He instructed everyone to return home, eat, and sleep as well as they could. For, he reasoned, tomorrow was the final liberation. And they needed to be rested and ready.

That evening, in front of the fireplace in their flat, Ron poured out his heart to Hermione and asked her to be his wife. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember, 'Mione. I will do everything in my power to make you happy," he promised her. "And I will love you no matter what comes our way, until the end of our lives."

Knowing that tomorrow would change everything once and for all, Hermione decided to look to her future with Ron as a sign that all would be well for her…for them. As he slipped the chosen ring onto her finger, she nodded with eyes shiny from tears…tears of compassion for the man in front of her…and tears for the long-ago loss she still felt deep in her heart. "Yes," she said simply. And then she smiled as Ron hooted with happiness.

-

At 5pm on Saturday they all met at Headquarters. After taking a light meal to commune as one, they focused on last minute preparation and waited for cover of darkness.

At 11:10 pm small pops could be heard outside of the Malfoy gates as the members of the Order apparated into position.

By 11:18 pm the advance team had broken through the external shields and charms and together they all advanced on the Manor. Within moments they were storming the doors and other hidden entrances. And as the Death Eaters voted for their next leader, they received the surprise of attack from all sides.

By 11:22 pm wands were drawn. Curses were thrown. Death Eaters caught off guard were quickly detained. And Hermione saw Lucius and Draco slip silently through an unmarked door. Hermione and Ron gave chase, Hermione following Lucius when they split and Ron following Draco.

At 11:54 pm Hermione floated Lucius' immobulized body back to the dungeon where the others were waiting for her. The death count was minimal. Transport of the prisoners to the Ministry building had begun. And there was no sign of Ron.

11:59 pm: Hermione's frantic search of the darkened passageways left her cold. Something was terribly wrong and she could feel it in her soul. Shouts from up ahead reassured her but then a monstrous crash…a thundering boom…threatened to deafen her as the walls began to shake. Coughing as she pushed through the dust, she saw Draco up ahead, his hair shining in the light from the other side of the decimated wall. _A warrior angel_, she thought, feeling strangely detached from the picture in front of her. And then she looked down and changed her mind. _The angel of death_. In a mixture of shock and horror, she realized that among the rubble at Draco's feet was the body of Ron. Her Ron. Dead. Stumbling forward she raised her wand to strike Draco down. But he had disappeared. And so she dropped to her knees and wept.

-

It was early the next day when Lucius escaped the Ministry's clutches. Hermione, dazed from the night before, remembered the threats Lucius had made to her as they dueled in his dungeons. He had listed the reasons for his contempt of her and then had vowed to make her pay with her life before she saw him in Azkaban. And now he was free.

She wasn't so much afraid for herself. She had nothing left to live for. But she was afraid for those around her. They were in dangerbecause Lucius was on the loose and she knew he would use them to reach her. And soHermione did the only things she could do before giving in to the despair and fear that threatened to crush her. Methodically, she packed a small bag, said goodbye to the flat holding sweet memories of Ron, left it in a shambles as if she had been attacked, and made her way to Dumbledore.

Saddened by her decision, but understanding her pain as well as her honor and courage, Dumbledore wished her luck. And with words of fatherly love, he vowed to keep her secret to death.

And so she was sent to her new life.

Broken and alone.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: five years earlier

Draco's façade crumbled as Hermione carefully touched his cheek and he felt his lip tremble once more. In an effort to restrain his emotions he grabbed her hands fiercely in his own and squeezed them tightly until he had released one good deep breath. "I don't know how to tell you," he said as he searched her eyes for the strength he needed.

Hermione pulled him back to the table and sat with him in chairs side-by-side. "Start with your mother," she coaxed him gently. "You loved her very much."

Draco nodded his agreement. "She was everything to me, especially when I couldn't be anything to my father," he said. "She used to tell me stories when I was little. And she used to comfort me after each session with my father. We would take long walks on the property and chase butterflies in the summer." He broke while sifting through his memories.

"There was one time I remember when she took me with her to Diagon Alley." He grinned. "I was so young and everything was so exciting. She made me tow the line while she got her supplies, but she rewarded me with ice cream when we were done." Hermione watched as his face relaxed in remembrance. "As we walked around after that we stopped in front of the quidditch supply store. There was a beautiful broom on display in the window and I remember telling her that one day I was going to be a famous quidditch player." Hermione smiled as she pictured Draco as a young boy. "Mother just laughed and said that we'd see. I remember she ruffled my hair and told me that she'd love me no matter what I grew up to be." Here Draco choked on an oath. "I guess she never figured on me becoming a Death Eater."

"But you're not," Hermione admonished him quickly. "Draco, don't think of yourself that way. You're not one of them and your mother must have known…must have seen that what was happening was the work of your father alone." Draco closed his eyes and focused on the comfort of her words. It was an amazing feeling to have someone believe in you so. "Draco?" Hermione broke into his thoughts. He opened his eyes once more. "Can you tell me what happened to her?" she asked gently.

"It was only a few months ago, but already it seems like another lifetime." Draco felt Hermione squeeze his hand again. "My father and I had had a fairly nasty discussion over dinner that night. The Dark Lord was ready for his newest crop of recruits and I was to be one of them before the end of the week." A tremor shook Draco's frame as he remembered. "My mother tried a handful of times to change the subject, but Father told her to keep silent. I had never known her to go against his wishes or to stand up to him, so I knew there was little hope of changing the outcome of my fate."

Draco stood to pace again. "He said that our Lord was close to full strength and power once more. He said that together as father and son in our Lord's ranks we would achieve greater glory than I could ever imagine. His eyes seemed to glaze over as he spoke of the honor of service to our Lord. He reveled in the details he shared with me about rape and murder, power and destiny." Draco stilled his steps as he shook his head. "I was disgusted. My father, who had always been so proud and so mighty was reveling in filthy and cowardly acts. I couldn't understand at first what had changed. And then I knew," he said. "My father had been brainwashed just like he had been brainwashing me." He began to pace again, this time more frantically. "I listened to him talk about the honor of our family name and the pride of serving our Lord in his cleansing of our world, and I noticed that his eyes weren't the only strange thing. Whenever he talked about the battle that is still to come his voice would take on an otherworldly quality. And this time he was actually foaming a bit at the mouth. I was disgusted with what I was hearing and shocked at what I was seeing." He stopped once more. "And I made the mistake of saying so."

Draco sat once more next to Hermione but did not look at her. "He came out of the trance-like state he seemed to be in and cursed me with a full body bind. I didn't even have time to react. I felt myself slam into the wall of the dining room and the next thing I remember is waking up in the dungeon. And then he set out to break me." Draco looked at Hermione. "Are you sure we want me to go on?" he asked. At Hermione's nod he took a breath and continued, this time keeping his eyes on her own. "He used _Crucio_ on me until I could no longer stand. It felt as though my body was ripping apart at the seams but I never cried out, not once. That would have only made it worse. And then he pulled out his favorite torture toys and proceeded to 'teach me some respect' for our Lord."

Draco hesitated before he pulled up his pant leg to reveal a large, deep scar. Hermione felt her heart break as she looked at mark on his otherwise pale skin. "I have others to match," he whispered as he tried to gauge her reaction. When she looked questioningly back to his eyes he merely uttered, "Back. Chest. Upper Arms."

Hermione felt tears well as she dropped to the floor at his feet. Gingerly she touched the scar on his leg and nodded in understanding as she replied. "She tried to stop him, didn't she?"

"I don't remember much about what happened once she came in. I'd been beaten so severely I could barely retain consciousness. I have impressions of yelling, fighting. I knew Mother was trying to get to me, trying to keep him away." He closed his eyes against his own fearful memory. "And then there was a flash of green light. And she was still…so still." Hermione emitted a small cry and watched as Draco gave himself over to the shivers that engulfed him. Jumping from her position on the floor, she wrapped her arms around him and held him as he shook. "He told everyone she committed suicide but it wasn't true!" He broke on a sob. "It wasn't true!"

"Shhh," was all she could murmur as she rocked him gently to and fro. "Shhh," she continued to croon as she cradled his head against her heart. "I'm here now, Draco. I'm here."

"Don't leave me, Hermione," she heard him beg as he clung to her and it ripped at her heart.

"I wont, Draco," she promised him. "I'll stay. I'll stay. I'll stay…"


	13. Chapter Twleve

Chapter Twelve: Present Day

"You made me feel sorry for you!" Hermione choked as she channeled her hate toward the man lying on the ground at her feet. At his quizzical look she continued. "That day, the story of your mother, how she died, how your father killed her. You made me pity you." She broke off and laughed bitterly as she thought back. "I knew you didn't want my pity, but I gave it to you anyway. Foolishly, I cared for you. And then I pitied you. And then I loved you." Her eyes began to shine with tears. "And you threw it all back in my face, you heartless bastard!"

When Draco made no move to speak, Hermione shot small warning sparks from her wand and chuckled as he flinched. "How does it feel to be on the receiving end this time, Malfoy?" Again, he made no move to respond. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She mocked him with her sneer. "Fine. Then I'll do the talking. How about if I tell you how _I_ feel right now on _this_ end of the wand and you tell me if I'm doing it right," she spit contemptuously.

"I watch you tremble piteously at my feet and I loathe you. I look down my wand at you and I feel more powerful than ten Aurors combined. I think of how easy it would be to kill you right now – reduce you to nothing but dust – and I feel the tang of victory on my tongue." She forced an eerie smile as she asked, "Am I doing it right, Malfoy? Am I feeling the correct emotions? Or is there something else I should be doing to make me more foul, hideous, and loathsome like you?"

When he did not answer she furrowed her brow and her smile gave way to nothingness. "But I could never be like you." Her voice trailed to a whisper as she remembered Ron. "Because I look at you – defenseless and dazed and maybe even a little bit frightened – and I think of the similar expression my fiancée must have given you right before you killed him. And of all the emotions I could and should feel for you – pity and hate included – I feel most compelled by…compassion." She gave a small self-deprecating laugh before turning her attention back to her captive.

Focusing her eyes once again on his, she asked him boldly, "Did you feel compassion that night, Malfoy? The night you took away my life for the second time? Are you even capable of such a true emotion?" Draco's mind was whirling. He didn't know how to answer her questions without upsetting her even more. And so he didn't answer at all…a move which was in itself the wrong answer.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione moved her wand free of Draco's chin but leveled it instead at his heart. "Stand up, Malfoy," she commanded. Slowly, Draco did as he was told, looking for any gap in her concentration to regain the upper hand in this situation. But he was having no luck.

"Killing you would be too easy," she said to him matter-of-factly. "Besides, if you didn't crawl back soon under the rock from which you came, your father would come after you and then I would have to face him as well."

"Hermione, you don't understand," Draco found his voice only to be cut off again.

"No!" shouted Hermione. "It is _you_ who doesn't understand, Malfoy." She took a deep breath to control her emotions before speaking again. "But you will. Trust me on that point. _Petrificus Totalis_!" And with that she watched as Draco's body gave in to gravity to land with a painful thud. "Oops," she mocked as she levitated him from the ground. "So sorry, Malfoy," she sneered. And with a flick of her wrist she turned to float him back through the woods to her house.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13: fifteen years earlier

As Draco keened in her arms, Hermione was hatching a plan. With Dumbledore's help, Draco needn't have to return home again. He could remain at Hogwarts over the rest of the school breaks and could continue to train and fight for the Light. It was simple. It was foolproof. Obviously the Headmaster trusted Draco enough to allow him into the battle classes. It would simply be a matter of explaining the rest of the issue at hand to get him to agree to help.

Hermione slowed her rocking and asked Draco quietly, "How much does Professor Dumbledore know, Draco?" Pulling his tear-stained face back, the hollow look she found indicated he hadn't told Dumbledore much. Hermione kneeled in front of him again. "Draco, you have to tell him." When Draco made to protest, she hurried on. "I'll go with you. It will be easy. I'm sure he'll believe you and once he does he will protect you."

"Protect me how? From what? My life?" Draco asked with stubborn disbelief. "My father is returning from an extended trip after the Christmas holidays. And when he does, don't think he won't beat me for even thinking I could escape him. He'll find out soon if he doesn't already know. And after he makes me pay for my betrayal of him, he will hand me over to Lord Voldemort at the first opportunity."

"Just a minute!" Hermione snapped as she narrowed her eyes. "If you are so sure that will happen, why in the world did you join our battle class? How would Dumbledore have even consented to it? Was it your plan to carry our secrets back? Why tell me the truth about your mother? What are you playing at, Draco?"

Feeling defeated, Draco stood and pitifully walked toward the door. "After Mother died I decided that I would be strong enough to stand against my father. I told Dumbledore so. But now that some time has passed and Father is about to return, I feel the truth in my bones. I cannot fight Lord Voldemort, Hermione. I cannot fight my destiny."

"What a load of rubbish!" Hermione exclaimed as she ran past him to block his escape. "Dumbledore will protect you! If you tell him everything he will let you seek sanctuary here at the school and he will allow you to fight on our side in the war. I know he will!"

"And you think my father will just allow that to happen? You think he won't be able to get to me if he really wants to? You think the wards at Hogwarts are truly strong enough to keep him – the great Lucius Malfoy – out of the building when he is – by law – allowed to visit as a trustee of the school?" He shook his head dejectedly. "I don't think so."

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione admonished him. "I refuse to let you give in to your self-pity or to that monster you call a father. I know Dumbledore can help you if you let him. I've seen the wonders he can work. And with Dumbledore on your side our plan can't fail." Draco cocked a brow as she said 'our plan.' He liked the way it sounded. "Please, Draco," she implored. "Let Dumbledore help you. Let me help you." She paused as she gathered her courage. "I…I care for you and I don't want to see you give yourself over to the Dark. Please."

Draco felt his doubts immediately ebb as he looked into Hermione's eyes. She cared about him! He took a moment to pause and to consider his options. Yes, the thought of betraying his father was scary. Yes, he had a million doubts about the success of Hermione's plan. But, Merlin, he felt wonderful! Hermione cared! And that was all he could want. Leaning his forehead down until it touched hers, he tried to convey with a look what he didn't trust his voice to say. "Thank you," he finally whispered.

Hermione gave him a smile, which glowed like the sun as she realized he would let her help. Then, taking a chance, she tilted her head until she was able to meet his lips in a kiss full of hope and promise.

/-/-/-/-

With his fingers steepled under his chin, Albus Dumbledore listened gravely to the story unfolding. He had suspected there were deeper issues with Draco Malfoy when he approached him earlier in the year. He had already known about Narcissa's passing, even though Lucius had managed to buy off top Ministry officials and the _Daily Prophet_ in an effort to keep it as quiet as possible. But he had no idea of the specifics behind her death. Rumors were of suicide, but he couldn't bring himself to believe them. And now the real truth was being revealed in all of its hideous glory to him. He marveled at the strength with which Draco recounted his tale.

Then again, it wasn't too surprising really. With a twinkle in his eye, Dumbledore remembered seeing the pair of students before him disentangling their hands as they entered his office. How fascinating! He hid the smile trying to break its way free. Hermione and Draco. Together. How wonderful indeed!

"You need not ask me, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore addressed Draco as he finished his gory tale. "My protection, and that of Hogwarts, is yours if you wish it."

Draco and Hermione smiled in unison at their Headmaster's understanding. "Yes, sir," Draco replied gratefully. "Thank you, sir."

"But," Dumbledore was quick to cut Draco off. "I have one condition on which I will not yield." Draco turned sober again as he listened to his Headmaster. "If I am to protect you, you cannot under any circumstances leave these hallowed halls." Draco nodded to the affirmative. "That means, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore clarified, "that you may not go to Hogsmeade, you may not walk unaccompanied to your Care of Magical Creatures class, and no more quidditch."

"But sir," Draco objected to his favorite pastime being taken from him.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore's voice was stern. "Surely you must agree with me that you cannot be kept safe if you are flying around the quidditch pitch at all altitudes. It would be unrealistic to think anyone could keep pace with you. Not to mention it would entirely hamper the natural progress of the game."

"Remember Harry and the Dementors?" Hermione asked Draco quietly.

Draco pursed his lips but nodded his assent. "Very well."

"I am glad to have you on our side Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore stated honestly. "I trust you will live up to the faith I am placing in you."

"Yes, sir," Draco replied earnestly. "And thank you."

"You are most welcome, Draco," Dumbledore spoke kindly as his eyes softened. "If that is all, you may go." As the pair of students stood to take their leave, Dumbledore called to Hermione. "Ms. Granger, a word if you please." Nodding at Draco, Hermione watched him leave before turning to her beloved Headmaster.

"I believe in the truth of what he says, Headmaster," she said solemnly as she appraised him with a steady gaze. "More importantly, I believe in him."

"I know, dear girl," he said with a kindly smile. "All the better for him. I simply wanted to encourage you to keep watchful. Those who cannot get to Mr. Malfoy may try to get to him through you."

Hermione furrowed her brow as she cocked her head to one side. "But, why?" she asked.

Amazed by the fact that the brightest witch in his school hadn't yet realized he understood everything that happened within his walls, he simply gazed overtop his spectacles at her in amusement. And, as a knowing blush slowly spread across her cheeks, Hermione grinned shyly, thanked him for his assistance, and took her leave.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter 14: present day

The hell of _Petrificus Totalis_ is that you are fully aware of what is going on, even if you can't move to respond to it. And so it was that Draco's temper built degree by degree, humiliation taking over every fiber of his being, as Hermione floated him nearly a mile back to her house. Of course, the situation was _almost_ as amusing as it was maddening. Hermione didn't miss a beat as she navigated the terrain, muttering angrily to herself the whole way. Draco smirked inwardly. He remembered she used to be like this…when she was upset or planning or trying to figure out a big problem. It was never wise to interrupt her when she was at this stage of her think-process and so he conceded that he was lucky – sort of…for at the moment he was anything but patient.

The minutes dragged by like hours as he stared at nothing but the treetops or the bright sunshine. Finally, Draco felt the physical relief from the summer heat as Hermione floated him into her house. Then, he felt the mental relief from immobility as Hermione reversed her spell – after magically binding him to a chair of course. Draco watched as Hermione dropped onto the couch opposite him with her head in her hands. "Now what am I going to do?" he heard her utter. "Others are sure to come before long. I can't stay here. I can't kill him. But I can't take him with me. Where am I going to go?" Draco watched as she paused in her raving finally to raise her head. "How _did_ you find me, Malfoy?" she asked incredulously.

"Dumbledore," he replied simply.

"You lie!" Hermione narrowed her eyes as her voice turned to venom. "Dumbledore would never betray me. And Merlin knows he would never trust you again. Not after everything you did!"

"Hermione," Draco said gently, despite his ire at being incapacitated. "I know that you hate me for everything that has happened. But I need you to believe me when I tell you that I truly am here on Dumbledore's behalf…that my father isn't coming for you or waiting for me to return. I would never put you in danger intentionally." Furiously she leapt to her feet but Draco's powerful voice silenced her. "I know you don't want to listen to me but I need you to swear to me right now that you will let me talk until I have finished what I need to say." Hermione raised her brow in suspicion. "I'm serious 'Mione," he said as he fought to win her assent. "Not one word and no more spells until you've heard the whole truth."

She snorted in a very unlady-like manner at his request. "Would that be the whole truth, Malfoy, or the whole truth according to your twisted little brain?" When he didn't answer she shrugged and sat again. "And how do I know you aren't just stalling so I'll feel sorry for you and let my guard down? You're not very bright if you think I'm just going to let you try to kill me again."

Draco's voice dropped to the pitch of a tolling bell. "I swear to you on my mother's memory that I am not here to kill you," he said. Hermione listened as he carefully spoke each word as if it were its own sentence. Deep in her heart she knew it pained him to speak of his mother. And to swear on her memory could only mean that he was in earnest – or a total scum. She didn't know why, but she was willing to bet it was the former rather than the latter. And so she decided to give him a chance. She nodded and sat back to get comfortable – all the while keeping his wand tucked firmly away with her own wand in her hand just in case. "Talk, then!" she commanded, her voice none too friendly. "And by the way," she added before allowing him to begin. "Don't call me 'Mione again."


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter 15: fifteen years earlier

"'Mione?" Draco's voice interrupted the brunette frowning over her Arithmancy homework in the library.

"Hmm?" Hermione replied as she looked up, her eyes still clouded with study.

Draco paused as he tried to formulate his thoughts into words. It was February already. And he was in love with the most beautiful creature in the world. But he hadn't gotten up the courage to tell her so…or show her so. In fact, outside of studying together and talking for hours on end, they had done little more than hold hands or sneak a quick snog session when they thought no one was paying attention. But the time had come for him to tell her. He gulped around the constriction in his throat.

Hermione cocked her head and asked concernedly, "Is everything alright, Draco?" His silence worried her. They had been lucky, for a while she knew. Draco's father had been reported home the first of the year but had not yet managed to get to him. Lucius had tried, to be sure, but Dumbledore hadn't let him near his son. And yet…Hermione worried about Draco still. There were times she would find him in some dark corner or another, trembling ever so slightly. He would always claim to be thinking of his mother, but was quick to dismiss her worries as unnecessary. Still…she couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling each episode left behind.

But at this moment Hermione needn't have worried for Draco's silence was motivated solely by tongue-tying, stupefying, mind-boggling love. Finally… "'Mione, I was wondering if you would allow me the privilege of seeing you alone tomorrow evening?"

The formality of his request caused Hermione's heart to beat a little faster. The few times they had snogged he had first politely asked her permission. So politely, in fact, she kept expecting to receive an engraved invitation! "Certainly, Draco," she replied happily, mentally noting it would be Valentine's Day. "And what will we be doing?" she asked coquettishly.

"That's a surprise," he returned, grinning at her flirtation. "I'll meet you here at 7 pm sharp?" Hermione smiled again and nodded her assent. "Great," Draco seemed to relax immensely and turned to leave. "I've got things to do before then. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," she echoed. And she turned back to her studies, her eyes still clouded with Draco.

/-/-/-/-

At precisely 6:45 pm the following night, Hermione made her way from her room into the Gryffindor common room. Small pockets of students sat about playing exploding snap or sharing gossip. A few couples sat near the fireplace holding hands – among them Seamus and Ginny. Hermione had been so busy over the past few months she hadn't been aware of the blossoming affection they shared until she caught them sharing a kiss in an empty classroom on one of her patrols. Ginny had sworn her to secrecy and she hadn't said a word to Ron or Harry. But she needn't have worried. The happy couple hadn't remained a secret for very long. And both of the redhead's "protectors" had taken it rather well. With a war looming, Ron and Harry figured that having an extra set of eyes on Ginny would be a good thing.

Hermione scanned the common room again and wondered about Harry and Ron. She hadn't seen much of them lately. Harry was always busy training, but Ron? Honestly Hermione didn't know. He seemed to be avoiding her. With a final check of her hair in the nearby mirror she walked toward the portrait door and nearly right into Ron himself as he came through. "Hello, 'Mione," he said sadly as he looked her over. Merlin, she was beautiful!

"Oh, hello, Ron," she answered. "I was just thinking about you. Where have you been?"

"Busy with schoolwork and stuff," he answered, not too convincingly. "You're all dressed up tonight," he added, knowing in his heart he was losing her to Malfoy.

"Yes, well, I'm meeting someone and…" Hermione didn't know what to say. She and Ron had never had that talk last fall. She had tried to bring up the subject with him a handful of times. But each time he had changed the subject so quickly that she finally let it go. And after a time, she convinced herself that it wasn't an issue for him anymore. At least, she had hoped that it wasn't an issue.

"He's a lucky man, 'Mione," Ron whispered as he leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Happy Valentine's Day." With a quick lift of his chin and a fortifying breath, Ron smiled at her then and left her to her evening.

"You too, Ron," she whispered as she watched him bound up the stairs to his room. "You too."

/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Can I take this silly thing off now, Draco?" whined Hermione as she felt him stop her progress.

Draco chuckled. "Just one more second, Hermione," he cajoled. "Be patient." No sooner had the words left his mouth than he gently removed the blindfold he had convinced Hermione to don only minutes before in the library. "Here we are," he smiled as he stepped back to allow her to take in her surroundings.

"Oh, Draco," Hermione breathed as she stood dumbfounded. She found herself standing in the absolute middle of the Astronomy Tower, surrounded by a sea of lighted candles. "It's beautiful," she said as she turned to him. "Thank you."

"It is you who's to be thanked, Hermione," Draco said as he stepped toward her and took her hands in his.

"Whatever for?" she asked him as she smiled.

"Hermione, you have been my friend and you have been my confidante. You have shown me patience when no one else would. You have shown me understanding when no one else could. And, most importantly, you have shown me my own heart." Draco swallowed his nerves as he pulled a silver necklace from his pocket. Dangling from the chain was a delicate heart with a rose inside of it. The sight of the fragile bauble glimmering in the candlelight made Hermione catch her breath.

"It belonged to my mother," he told her as she blinked back her tears. "She…she asked me to one day give it to the woman I loved." He stopped to unhook the chain and look into her eyes. "Hermione, I do love you. I think I've loved you since the moment you slapped me silly in our third year." Hermione's face shown with laughter as an accompaniment to her joyous tears. "I would be honored if you would wear this necklace as a token of my love for you."

Biting on her bottom lip, Hermione nodded. Slowly she turned and lifted her hair so Draco could clasp the necklace at her nape. And as he felt Draco's arms move down her shoulders to her arms, she spun to throw her own arms around him. "Oh, Draco," she sighed. "I love you too!"

/-/-/-/-/-/-

The air in the Great Hall was too thick with tension to enjoy the scent of the May flowers just beyond its windows. Standing gravely at the head of the room, Albus Dumbledore delivered his news to the quickly assembled group of teachers and older students. Inside sources had confirmed that the war would begin tomorrow – before first light. Voldemort and his followers were ready. The time had come. Reinforcements from the Ministry would arrive within the hour. The final choice was upon them all: kill or die.

Hermione felt her blood run cold at Dumbledore's words. For a moment she thought she would stop breathing entirely. But the warmth of Harry on one side of her and Ron on the other brought her back from the edge of panic. She turned to Ron and stared into his eyes. "Alright there, Ron?" she asked him bravely. At his nod, they both turned their attention to Harry.

"We're with you, mate," Ron told his friend earnestly.

"To the end," agreed Hermione as she embraced Harry. Knowing it was the last time she could permit herself the emotion, she allowed a few tears to fall. Soon, Ron had embraced her from behind, his gaze locked with Harry's, and together the golden trio formed a tableau of comfort, of resolution, and of strength.

"I love you guys," Harry said quietly before stepping back and putting on his armor of bravery. "I won't let you down, I swear to it." A brief moment of silence among the friends communicated the depth of their loyalty to one another. Then, as if choreographed, they simultaneously turned on their heels and went their own ways to prepare.

/-/-/-/-/-/-

Hermione hadn't seen Draco in the Great Hall earlier but assumed he had just missed the hurried summons. Now, however, was a different story. Dumbledore had let them go over an hour ago and the castle was buzzing with the news. Certainly Draco would have heard by now and made his presence known to her.

Knowing she had things to do to ready herself for the morning and resenting the delay she muttered to herself as she searched for Draco. "Where are you?" she wondered aloud as she checked their Transfiguration classroom. She hadn't found him in the library, the Potions classroom, or the Room of Requirement. The first-year Slytherin she had asked for help confirmed he was not in his common room. Resolutely she headed for the last destination on her list: the Astronomy Tower. "I just hope he is there."

And he was. Hermione felt a chill as she found him huddled in a dark corner and trembling. "Draco?" she asked as she approached him but he didn't seem to hear her. Rather, he seemed to be speaking to himself. She thought she heard the words _love_, _forgive_, _sorry_, and _explain_. But his voice was so low she lost the context of his sentences. "Draco?" she asked again as she put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Like a hot poker, Draco jumped to his feet from his stupor. "Hermione!" he cried as if he had just found her after looking for her forever. He crushed her to his chest and breathed deeply of her scent before, "I love you, Hermione. I love you so much. Merlin knows I love you."

"Draco, what's wrong?" Hermione asked fearfully into his chest. "I didn't see you in the Great Hall and I've been looking everywhere, and you were trembling just now and…oh, Draco, the war is to begin tomorrow!" She pulled back to look up into his eyes. Deeply, she felt the pull of his gaze in her soul. He needed. He searched. He found. And she felt him take her on an emotional ride she could not explain. "Draco?" she whispered.

"If only we had more time," he said with pain in his voice. "There is so much I want to say, so much I need to tell you." Quickly and deeply he kissed her then…so differently than before. Gone were the shy kisses of innocence. Gone were the playful kisses of flirting. These were the heated kisses of desire. These were the hard kisses of desperation.

Draco broke from her mouth to kiss along her chin, her ear, the column of her neck, and down the front of her collarbone. "Draco," Hermione managed to moan as her head swam and her blood heated. "Oh, Draco, I love you too."

"Please," Draco pleaded as they locked eyes once more. "Please let me love you tonight. Let me show you how much I love you. Just for tonight."

Without hesitation, Hermione gave herself over to him. "Tonight and every night, Draco," Hermione sighed as she felt his palm cup her breast gently. "For the rest of our lives."

/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Behind you!" Hermione shouted to Ron as she dodged a curse being thrown at her by yet another Death Eater. Realistically, she knew the war had only been raging for about an hour. But to Hermione it felt like weeks. All her years of study…all her months of training…nothing could have adequately prepared her for the heat, the smells, the blood, or the pain of battle. Seamus had chosen to fight with the other sixth years, rather than stay behind with Ginny. And he had paid the ultimate price. Lavender. Parvati. Dean. Hannah. Each time she stumbled over another of her friends she had to remind herself to breathe…to keep moving…to dodge faster…to work harder to guard Harry's back.

Slowly Hermione, Ron, and Draco helped Harry make his way closer to Voldemort. Reflexively dodging hexes and systematically stunning Death Eaters, they worked as a unit as promised. And what began as a Golden Trio emerged one man stronger – as of that fateful morning. Harry and Ron knew Hermione and Draco were in love. And though they hadn't taken great pains to welcome him into their friendship, they had not made it harder for their friend to be with him. They wanted Hermione's happiness as much as she did. And so, that morning, when Hermione brought Draco to them, they agreed to enlist his help in their sole mission of getting to Voldemort.

"Duck, 'Mione," called Draco as he stunned a Death Eater over her head.

"Thanks," she breathed heavily after noting how close a call she had just had. Quickly she scanned their surroundings. "We're nearly there, Harry," she said to him. And he nodded in reply. Hurriedly they made their way to the top of the ridge where Hermione, Ron and Draco set themselves as sentinels. And Harry went on alone to face Voldemort once and for all.

Asked later about the specifics of the rest of the battle, Hermione would only be able to recall a handful of details. She would remember watching in awe as the advancing Death Eaters fell one by one at the hands of the Light. She would remember seeing Harry engaged in what seemed to be a horrific battle with Voldemort playing out as if in slow motion. She would remember the way her ebbing energy kicked into overdrive as Lucius Malfoy appeared out of nowhere behind her to point his wand at Draco. She would remember turning to defend her true love from his father, the enemy – only to see that same true love _Stupefy_ Ron. And she would remember, God help her, crying out to Draco in confusion and pain as he turned his wand on her and allowed his father to advance on Harry.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter 16: present day

Draco took a deep breath as he locked eyes with Hermione. "Do you remember the necklace I gave to you?" he asked her. At her nod he appeared to relax ever so slightly. "I wanted…no, wait. I have to go back farther…to the previous Christmastime," he said. Hermione arched an eyebrow in annoyance, but waited for him to continue. She watched him closely as Draco's eyes clouded over in remembrance.

"You had gone to be with your parents and I was so lonely without you. I remember feeling useless…restless...stupid that I couldn't manage on my own for a week. I finished my class work in the first day-and-a-half. I got tired of haunting the library two days later. And Christmas was upon me and I was feeling sorry for myself. And then your package arrived." He smiled then, but stayed focused on the memory. "It was a book about quidditch. I remember thinking bitterly that it was a thoughtful gesture but a wasted gift nonetheless because I couldn't fly anymore. But then I opened the cover and saw what you had written.

_Draco-_

_Until we are free, may you fly in your dreams. _

_Perhaps I shall be there with you._

_Yours,_

_Hermione._

"I can't tell you what your words meant or explain how I felt in that moment. I…I knew you cared about me and I knew I cared about you too. But suddenly, crazily, I realized I had fallen in love with you and I didn't know what to do with the overwhelming sense of joy that flooded my insides. Then, of course, I realized I hadn't even remembered to get you a Christmas present. What an ass I was. So," he said, "I decided to remedy the problem."

Draco stopped then and focused again on Hermione's eyes to see them glisten ever so slightly. "That was when I failed you, 'Mione. That was when I failed Dumbledore too. You both put your faith and trust in me and I blew it with one bad decision." He faltered as Hermione, ever intuitive, figured out what he had not admitted to her all of these years.

"You left Hogwarts, didn't you?" her question was barely above a whisper.

"I wanted to get you an amazing gift. A gift you deserved. A gift you could cherish. A gift that would provide to you strength when I could not. And then I remembered the necklace from my mother – which was in my room at the Manor. I knew I wasn't supposed to go, but I needed to have it for you. My mother would have wanted me to have it for you. So I sneaked out of the castle that night and apparated home to get it." His brows furrowed as he continued to remember. "In and out. It was going to be quick. It was going to be harmless. And no one would have to know I bent the rules just a little bit." Draco's voice tightened then. "But being so happy made me sloppy. I let down my guard. I didn't watch what was going on around me. And just after I had pocketed the necklace, Lucius appeared at my door."

"_Draco," Lucius' sneer cut through Draco's consciousness like a knife. "Son," he said sarcastically as his eyes started to grow wild. "I so hoped you would return for the Christmas holiday. Being without your mother has been so difficult and I couldn't stay away a moment longer, knowing I might be able to see my dear son again." Draco felt his gut clench with a palpable fear. "So here I am. And here you are." Draco knew both the look in his father's eyes and the tone of his voice. Lucius only became sarcastic when he was three steps beyond livid – and half a step from deadly. "I think it is high time we spent quality time together, don't you?" Desperately, Draco reached for his wand but froze when he saw it in his father's clutches._

"_Looking for this, dear boy?" Lucius asked with barely concealed hate. He took two steps toward Draco before stopping again. "Perhaps you had better rest before we have our night of fun, Draco," he snarled as he raised his own wand at his son. "You seem distracted and overwrought." As he expected, Draco didn't have to wait long for the pain. "Crucio," his father hollered and Draco fell to the ground in agony. Over and over Lucius threw the curse at his son until he finally lost consciousness. "There you go, son," Lucius said as he looked over his son's damaged frame. "Have that good rest now. You'll need it before our visitor arrives." _

Draco avoided Hermione's gaze as he moved to the next chapter of his story. He didn't want her to interrupt him and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to go on if he could see that she hated and despised him for what happened. So after looking about the room with no haven to be found, he closed his eyes and lowered his head as he continued his tale.

"Voldemort came to us that night. He knew. They all knew. Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters. They knew about our relationship, Hermione. And my father said my betrayal had made him a laughing stock. But there was a way I could fix things. Just one way…"

_Draco could still barely move from the Crucio his father had put on him earlier that day and so he lay still on the forest floor, just beyond Malfoy property. Around him he could see hooded figures with masks. The smell of the blood of the recently sacrificed muggles on the other side of the clearing made Draco lose the contents of his stomach. And they laughed at him…mocked him…until their cackling was taken over by the hissing voice of Lord Voldemort himself. _

"_You, young Malfoy, have displeased me greatly. Not to mention the disgrace you have brought upon your father. How dare you try to escape my ranks? Do you think yourself above me? You are nothing! Nothing, I tell you! And yet…" Draco shivered as he felt the Dark Lord's breath just over his ear. "You can yet be useful to me." He heard Voldemort laugh as he stood from Draco once more. "The mudblood," he said clear and loud as a gong, causing his minions to fall into silence. "You will use her. You will gain her confidences. You will pump her for information, which you will supply to us."_

"_No," Draco gasped as he tried to struggle to his knees. "I can't. I won't."_

"_But you will," Voldemort hissed vehemently as the gathered Death Eaters dropped to their knees. "You will or I will kill you."_

"_Then kill me," Draco gasped from the pain as he dared look into the Dark Lord's eyes. "For I will never do your bidding. Never."_

"_Fool!" Voldemort yelled as he waved a gnarled finger in Draco's face. And Draco experienced darkness again as he felt the earth rush up to meet him._

Draco continued with his head down. "I remember finding myself in a dark corner of the dungeon stairway. Shaking…rocking to ward off a fear I didn't understand. Physically, I was fine." Draco shook his head as though he didn't believe was he was about to reveal. "But I couldn't remember why I was upset or how I had gotten there. I just felt it had something to do with my mother. The last thing I could remember was finding the necklace. I figured memories of her must have triggered some sort of mini emotional trauma or something. But I was safe at Hogwarts and I had the gift I wanted to give you. And so I went back to my room and put it away for you… for when I was ready to tell you that I…" He took a quick breath to calm the rapid beating of his heart. Whatever he said now, she would never want to hear him say again that he loved her. Even if he still did…with all of his heart.

"Then you came back from the holiday. And life went on. And we grew closer. And I thought everything was going to be okay. But I had another blackout. The last thing I remember was that I went off to get a book from my room so I could meet you in the library. And then I remember you finding me in the corner of the Arithmancy classroom, shaking, and thinking about my mother. I didn't know how to explain it."

He stopped then, but wouldn't look at her. "May I have a glass of water, please?" He listened with his head still bowed as she got up wordlessly to fulfill his request. When the water appeared in front of him he felt his cheeks color in shame and anger. Damn, but he hated being bound. He had wanted to come back to Hermione a strong, proud man. Instead, he found himself cut to size and embarrassed out of his mind.

Hermione gave Draco a long, hard look. She wished to see the truth in his eyes, but she was glad he wasn't looking at her. What he was telling her was startling…unbelievable even. And she didn't want to feel connected to him in any way until he was done. Softly, she whispered a spell, and with the flick of her wand she untied Draco's hands.

The release of some of his bonds made Draco want to cry in relief. Slowly he flexed his fingers and rotated his wrists until he felt the blood flow normally through them again. Hermione took advantage of this time to set the cup of water on the end table just within his reach. Then she returned to the couch. She watched him drink as if his life depended upon it. But not once did he look in her direction. Again, he hung his head after returning his cup to the table. And he began to speak.

"It wasn't until the day before the war that they allowed me to remember. They had been torturing me and restoring my body to health before sending me back. They had also been brainwashing me…as they had done my father. They wanted to break me…to win my loyalty to them completely. But I was stubborn. And so they inflicted upon me the worst pain imaginable. They gave me back the memories of my abductions." Draco scrubbed his face with his hands before continuing.

"Remembering was enough to make me want to die. It wasn't the torture that tore me up, Hermione. I could have lived with myself if it had been that alone. But I remembered spilling secrets. Your secrets. Our secrets. Dumbledore's secrets." Draco ignored Hermione's horrified gasp and forged ahead. "They used _Imperio_ on me and forced me to reveal things I swore to you I never would. I told them of Dumbledore's protection and trust. I told them of the plan to work together in the battle to get Harry safely to Voldemort. I told them about the prophecy of Harry and Voldemort alone to the death." A silent tear rolled down his cheek. "I couldn't fight them. I thought I could be strong for you, but I couldn't. I just couldn't fight them off."

Draco finally raised his tortured eyes to look into their mirrored counterparts in Hermione's tear-stained face. It ripped him up to hurt her. But she had asked for the truth. She deserved it. So through the pain he thought he had managed to repress, he finished what he had begun. "When I came back that night, the night we made love for the first and only time, it was with the knowledge that they would kill you if I didn't do what they wanted. And I loved you too much to let you die. So, yes, Hermione. I turned on you – on you and all you believed in. I gave into them. I did what they wanted me to do. I did what I _had_ to do to keep you alive. And by doing that I took away your life…and my own. And you will never know how sorry I am that I wasn't strong enough to figure it all out another way."


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter 17: fifteen years earlier

"The time has come, boy," Voldemort hissed into Draco's ear as he lay battered and broken on the forest floor. "The time when I will overthrow the so-called Light and again rule the world!" He cackled as the Death Eaters around him murmured in appreciation. "And you are going to help me," he ran a gnarled finger down Draco's bloody cheek.

"No," Draco whispered with the last of the strength in him.

"Aaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggghhh!" screamed Voldemort at the top of his lungs, frightening his followers to their knees. "I grow tired of your insolence, boy!" he turned his red eyes on Draco. "And I think it is high time I taught you a lesson."

Draco weakly laughed then, scandalizing the Death Eaters within earshot. "Go ahead," he said. "Torture me. Kill me. The first I can stand and the second I would welcome." He took the opportunity to spit at the feet of the Dark Lord for emphasis. "But nothing you could do to me now could get me to do what you want. Nothing."

Lord Voldemort stood still as stone as he regarded the boy on the ground in front of him. And then, slowly, his shoulders began to quake. And laughter – pure, unaffected laughter – bubbled from his throat. Never before had any in the assembly heard their leader laugh. But unlike the relief it should have brought to them, they felt only bone-chilling fear. "You're right, young Malfoy," he admitted as he continued to laugh…until the laugh turned to the cackle of triumph his pawns were used to hearing. "There is truly nothing I could do to _you_. But there is something I could do to your precious little _whore_, isn't there?" He smiled an evil, demented smile. "And just for a little insurance…_Restituo_!"

Draco didn't even have time to respond before the Dark Lord's voice and wand worked their magic to return his memories of past abductions. _No_! Draco screamed inside his head as he remembered each coerced confession. _Merlin, no_! _Please don't let it be true_! he begged in silent agony as he relived his betrayal of those who trusted him…of those he loved. And the tears began to fall.

"There, there, weak one," crooned Voldemort in a sickly sweet voice. "I'm sure it must be disappointing to find out you are no better than the rest of us. In fact, I'm surprised you can stand to live at this moment for the weakness you displayed before us all." He broke as he rose to his full height and levitated Draco to his knees. "Consider yourself lucky that I haven't disposed of you already, you piece of filth," he whispered in a deadly voice. "But I will…yes, I will – right after I kill that sorry excuse for a life you call a girlfriend – unless…" Voldemort watched as comprehension dawned in Draco's eyes.

"You will return to Hogwarts tonight and convince your whore to make you a part of Potter's team," Voldemort commanded. You will fight alongside the three of them until you reach the ridge just short of my station. You will post yourself there with the others while Potter comes to me. And then you will help your father to destroy Potter by taking care of your little friends while Lucius passes their guard."

Tears continued to course down Draco's cheeks as he realized he wouldn't be left with a choice. "Do this," Voldemort smirked, "and you will be allowed to live and to serve me. Who knows? Perhaps I will even allow you to keep the mudblood as a plaything – your reward, if you will – after the dust has settled and I am made true ruler of our world." He paused to turn his back on Draco in dismissal before turning back with a venomous glare. "However! Should you fail me in any way, the mudblood will be mine…mine to torture…mine to ravish…and mine to destroy…one piece at a time."

Draco couldn't fight the tremors that shook his body. "_Renovo et Reverto_!" Lord Voldemort's words rang in his head as he found himself once more, whole in body but forever damaged in spirit, returned to the darkened corner of the Astronomy Tower.

"No," he whispered to himself as he trembled. "How is this possible? How could I have done this to her? I love her too much to have let them… But I did. Now she will never forgive me. Oh, 'Mione I am so sorry! Merlin, how can I even explain? How?" Like a hot poker he sprang to his feet then as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hermione!" he cried as if he had just found her after looking for her forever. He crushed her to his chest and breathed deeply of her scent before, "I love you, Hermione. I love you so much. Merlin knows I love you."

"Draco, what's wrong?" Hermione asked fearfully into his chest. "I didn't see you in the Great Hall and I've been looking everywhere, and you were trembling just now and…oh, Draco, the war is to begin tomorrow!" She pulled back to look up into his eyes. Deeply, she felt the pull of his gaze in her soul. He needed. He searched. He found. And she felt him take her on an emotional ride she could not explain. "Draco?" she whispered.

"If only we had more time," he said with pain in his voice. "There is so much I want to say, so much I need to tell you." Quickly and deeply he kissed her then…so differently than before. Gone were the shy kisses of innocence. Gone were the playful kisses of flirting. These were the heated kisses of desire. These were the hard kisses of desperation.

Draco broke from her mouth to kiss along her chin, her ear, the column of her neck, and down the front of her collarbone. "Draco," Hermione managed to moan as her head swam and her blood heated. "Oh, Draco, I love you too."

"Please," Draco pleaded as they locked eyes once more. "Please let me love you tonight. Let me show you how much I love you. Just for tonight."

Without hesitation, Hermione gave herself over to him. "Tonight and every night, Draco," Hermione sighed as she felt his palm cup her breast gently. "For the rest of our lives."

Draco removed his cloak and spread it on the floor of the tower. Gently he removed Hermione's to use as a blanket to shield them from the world…if only for tonight. Hungrily he returned his lips to hers once more as his hands molded to her curves. The desperation of his breathing was matched by the same of his lover. Quickly, he divested Hermione of her clothing to stand in awe of the heavenly beauty in front of him. He smiled because she wore his necklace. "Draco?" she asked in mild embarrassment as he continued to stare.

He reached for her then, and gently laid her down on his cloak. "You are amazingly beautiful, Hermione," he breathed as his lips hovered over hers. "Inside and out, you are without compare. I'm not worthy of your love and I never will be."

"Draco, don't be silly," Hermione replied earnestly as she reached to gently touch his face. "I am yours now and forever…just as you are mine. Neither of us is worthy, but we are blessed to have found each other." A tear ran down Draco's cheek to drop silently onto Hermione's lips. "I love you Draco Malfoy. And I am never going to let you go. Never," she promised. And she pulled his head down to meet hers in a greedy kiss.

Draco's mind whirled as their spirits dueled and their hearts danced. His flesh tingled as Hermione clumsily undressed him and prickled as her fingers left electric sparks in their wake. Hotter and hotter the two young lovers burned as they touched and tasted, explored and discovered. And just when they thought they would burst from the magic building inside of them, he thrust into her and their love blocked out the world…and the war…and the deceit…and the pain…if only for the night.

"Tonight and every night, Draco," Hermione repeated as she nestled his head to her breast. "For the rest of our lives."


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter 18: present day

Lost in his own world of pain, Draco _felt_ that Hermione had gone before he heard the door to her bedroom click quietly shut. And when he realized she had chosen to walk away instead of to fight, he knew he had lost her forever. And his tears fell…

Hermione, still in shock over Draco's words, removed herself quietly from his presence. And when the door was closed behind her, she whispered both locking and silencing charms. Slowly, she crossed to her bed and lay down gently, as if in a daze. The hollow feeling of nothingness that had overcome her when she realized Draco's full betrayal ate at her gut as she stared at the white ceiling above her. It was easier this way, wasn't it? To just feel nothing? Yes, it had to be. For to know that the one true moment of purity, love and bliss in your life was nothing but a lie…a joke…would be too much to bear if the nothingness went away. And so Hermione willed herself to think and feel _nothing_ as she turned to her side and curled up in a tight ball. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing…

Draco didn't know how long he'd been sitting there wallowing in his pain and misery before he began to worry for Hermione. The sun was setting. And he hadn't heard a peep from her since she left the room. Unless…had she left the house altogether? "Hermione?" he called out, his voice sounding unnatural in the silence around him. He listened but heard nothing. "Hermione?" he called again. Still nothing. "Damn!" he cursed as he fumbled with his magical bonds. "Damn, damn, damn," he muttered as he realized he could not free himself. "Hermione?" he called one last time. When he got no response he looked around the room for anything he might be able to use to free himself…

Hermione's room was a disaster. The nothingness she tried so hard to keep inside of her had been slowly replaced by pain…and it was a pain like no other. First came the chills. Then came the headache. Followed by a burning in her heart, in her stomach, and in her throat. And then the tears. Hot and hurtful, they seemed to scorch her cheeks as they rolled in torrents from her aching eyes. Frantically, she climbed from her bed and entered her closet. Returning to sit in the middle of the floor, she placed the small object she had fetched in front of her. And through her tears she magicked her school trunk to its normal size.

Robes. Parchments. Quills. Photos...of friends and happier times…of Harry and Ron…of Ginny and Hagrid…of Draco. With every page she turned in her album she cried for herself, for the loss of her innocence, and for the loss of the life she had loved. Closing the album and opening her wardrobe to gather her things, she cried for those who had been lost in the war…most of all for Harry. Packing her trunk once again with her essentials, her money and her photo album, she cried for Ron. But she could not cry for Draco. She would never cry for him again. And when she had completed her task and miniaturized her trunk once more, she dug through her school things still strewn across her floor until she found what she wanted. Then, treasure in hand and trunk in her pocket, she flung open her door to deal with Draco once and for all…

Draco was near to despair with fear he would never get out of the chair when he heard Hermione thunder down the hall. "Thank, Merlin," he began, but stilled when she entered the room. Her face may have been streaked with dried tears, but she was far from broken. Standing tall, he noticed a fire of determination in her eyes he had not seen since their early days at Hogwarts. She had thrown her hair up into a careless bun and was wearing her old Auror's cloak. And for an instant he was taken back in time. But any memories he may have wanted to visit were thrust from his mind as she raised her wand to him once more.

"You've left me no choice but to run again. And I hate you for it, Draco Malfoy. I hate you enough to kill you, but I won't. Instead, I will trade you your life for the honest answers to two questions." Draco could only nod. She deserved the truth, which was more than he had ever given her before today. He would answer her questions. And he would find a way to get her to stay. He had to.

Hermione lowered her wand in acknowledgement of his agreement to her terms. "First, Ron."

"Hermione," Draco began, shaking his head from side to side.

"The truth," Hermione said firmly. "Just the truth, Malfoy."

"Alright," Draco acknowledged. "I guess I should explain that all of the Death Eaters were gathered in my father's home to pick a new leader; someone to regain what had been so closely lost just a few years earlier."

"Yes, I know," Hermione cut him off. "I was there, remember?"

"Of course, I remember," he replied quietly. "But things didn't go as I had hoped."

"I would say not," Hermione said acidly, as she began to tap her foot in impatience.

Draco ignored her barb and decided to answer her question rather than to defend himself. He knew she wasn't ready to believe him anyway. "I tried to keep Lucius with me that night – after we escaped into the tunnels under the house – but forced me to separate from him in a better attempt at self-defense. I knew my way, of course, but my job was to keep whoever was following me occupied while my father managed to escape his pursuer. And so I ran down the dark corridor – slowly – toward my own exit.

"_Give it up, Malfoy!" Draco heard as he ran from his pursuer. Weasley! Of all the people to follow him it couldn't have been someone else! "You'll never escape," he heard Ron's voice echo off the stones around him. "We've already captured your whole assembly. You may as well save yourself the trouble and stop already!" Draco continued along as he tried to ignore the voice of his nemesis. "Or are you truly a scared little ferret, Malfoy?" Ron's voice reached Draco's ears. "A ferret who never deserved anything better than what he got. A ferret who certainly didn't deserve – and will never have again – the love of my fiancée!"_

_At this Draco stopped cold. "Lumen flamare!" he muttered in a dark voice before the torch nearest him in the hallway sprang to life. He watched as Ron rounded the bend and screeched to a halt, his wand drawn, his chest heaving with the effort. "You are a liar, Weasley," Draco said in a low voice._

"_Afraid not," Ron retorted. "We have everyone captured and…" He was cut off as Draco raised his wand in return._

"_About Hermione," he shouted. "She would never marry you. Never." Draco's mind was reeling as he thought of the woman he still loved with all of his heart. She couldn't. She just couldn't marry Weasley. Not before she knew the truth!_

"_And why not?" Ron hollered back. "I love her. I treat her with respect. I take care of her. I would never hurt her..which is more than I can say for you, Malfoy!" Ron's countenance darkened as he channeled his years of frustrations toward the man in front of him._

"_You don't know what you're talking about, Weasel," Draco countered in an equally loud voice. "As usual."_

"_Oh, I don't, do I?" Ron shouted. "You are lower than any creature I have ever encountered, Malfoy." A cruel smile formed on Ron's face. "You used Hermione. You made her believe that you loved her. You took away her innocence, her happiness, her optimism. Do you have any idea how long it took me – took all of us – to bring her back from the brink you left her teetering on? Do you, Malfoy? Do you?" _

_Draco's self-recrimination was quickly compounded by a growing sense of urgent awareness. Never before had he seen Ron Weasley this upset, this determined, this focused. Draco actually feared that blood might be spilled before he could escape once more. "Stop being so righteous, Weasley," Draco retorted. "You think I don't know? You think I did what I did for myself? For my father? For Voldemort?" Draco's eyes filled with tears as his anger grew within him. "You think I didn't face the same void? The same emptiness? The same nothingness? You know nothing about me, Weasley, so don't judge what you don't understand."_

"_Oh, I understand alright. I understand that you are a selfish, worthless, spineless…"_

"_Stop," Draco commanded. "Just stop before I…"_

"_Before you what, Malfoy?" Ron questioned. "What? Kill me? Not a chance! Not today! Not ever again! I love Hermione and she loves me. We've won, Malfoy." Draco shifted as he heard shouting from behind Ron. Someone was coming. "We've won this time, Malfoy, and there is nothing you can do to change that!" Knowing he was only inches from the hidden panel to his freedom, Draco decided to end the discussion before Weasley's backup arrived. Quickly he raised his wand to put out the light. But just as he did, Ron hollered an advanced binding and stunning curse in Draco's general direction…which missed him in the darkness and struck the wall just behind him._

_Nothing could have prepared either Draco or Ron for what happened next. With its wards broken and its entrances compromised, the Manor shook with a resounding boom as the walls around them began to crumble. Rocked by the tremor and disoriented in the debris which began to fall, both men could only pray. And when the dust had settled, Draco stood with the light to his back, Ron crushed by rubble at his feet, and the love of his life staring at him as if he were the angel of death, himself. Draco watched as Hermione's face went from stunned to determined. And he knew Ron hadn't been lying. Hermione had loved the redhead. And now he was dead. And Draco fled the scene, knowing he had destroyed the love of his life again. _

Draco turned his head to see Hermione, who had walked to the window during his tale. He knew he didn't have the right to, but he wanted to comfort her. To apologize, to explain, and to hold her again as his own. But she turned then, stoic and unreadable, and simply said, "Now, Harry." Draco looked at her for any sign of distress, but he saw none. "You are the only one living, except for your father, who was present and conscious that night. And since I won't be visiting Lucius anytime soon for tea and a chat, I need you to tell me, Malfoy. Tell me how Harry died."

Draco hung his head for a moment before he gathered enough courage to face Hermione again. "Harry had just left us to stand guard when I saw my father approach. You and Ron were so busy hurling hexes and casting spells that you didn't even see him creep up the side of the hill. And then he was there."

"_Draco," he heard as his father positioned himself behind his son. Watching Hermione spin to his defense, he knew he had to act quickly or be the cause of her demise at his father's hand._

"_Stupefy," he quickly shouted as he pointed his wand at Ron. Turning back to Hermione, he watched with tear-filled eyes as his soul mate could only gape at him in confusion. Quickly he whispered as he raised his wand to aim it at her necklace, "Sikkerhet." And without missing a beat, he quickly shouted, "Stupefy!" before she fell limply to the ground._

"_Very good Draco," Lucius called as he turned from his approach on Potter and Lord Voldemort. "I knew you would come to your senses." Draco could only nod in assent._

"To be honest, once my father turned back to Voldemort, I scanned our perimeter for additional Death Eaters and then I came back to check on you and Ron and move you to the cover of the trees. I was going to try to help Harry, honestly. But by the time I reached their position, Voldemort was dead, my father was hurtling backward to the ground, and a large explosion of light and dust was all that could be seen in the place where Harry had been standing. It was the most bizarre thing I have ever seen.

"When I asked my father what he had done, he wouldn't tell me. He just smiled in his manic way and told me that he had killed 'the boy who lived.' He told me that our dreams were coming true and with Voldemort gone the two of us would rule together." Draco paused. "He was crazier than I had ever seen him. Merlin knows what he would have done if I had let him stay any longer near that ridge. Harry was gone. Voldemort was dead. You were protected. There was nothing more I could do but force him to leave…to leave you alone."

Hermione swiped a lone tear from her cheek as she gave a frustrated sigh and lowered her lids over her stinging eyes. "Harry," she whispered before chewing on her lip in concentration, unaware of the twitchy effect she still had on Draco. "Sikkerhet," she repeated almost inaudibly. "Where…?" she questioned her brain silently as she struggled to remember where she had read the word. "Of course!" she said aloud as she raised her head. "From the Norwegian Book of Spells. I found it in the library one day during sixth year and tried to study it, but found the word derivations too confusing to bother with on top of my other studies."

"I know," said Draco. We studied together that afternoon and I found it on the table after you left. I thought a few extra spells tucked under my belt couldn't hurt," he half grinned, despite the gravity of the current situation.

"Sikkerhet, meaning _safety_," continued Hermione. "…used as a protecting charm again evil hexes and curses." She stood and walked toward Draco slowly. "Why?" she asked quietly, searching his eyes for the truth.

"I knew I had to betray you, but I didn't want to hurt you if I could help it." Hermione stopped her approach as she felt her heart harden again. "So I did the only thing I could think of. My mother's necklace, the one I gave to you, was originally designed for a loftier purpose than its beauty. It was crafted to hold spells for short periods of time – glamour spells, invisibility spells, protection spells. That was what I meant when I told you I wanted to give you a gift that would give you strength when I couldn't." Draco furrowed his brow before continuing.

"I know it doesn't mean anything to you now and I'm sure you destroyed the necklace years ago, but I want you to know it was important to me and, therefore, it meant something when I gave it to you. My father gave it to my mother when they were young, when they were first in love, before he became the man I knew growing up. She quit wearing it when he changed, but she never got rid of it, because it reminded her of whom he used to be. It gave her hope somehow that he would become his old self again. But that never happened."

Hermione walked as close to Draco as she dared before stopping once more. "Hope is overrated," she said quietly, before opening her hand to reveal the necklace she had been holding. "I, too, used to hope… But that hope did nothing but prove me a fool time and again...for years." She tossed the necklace into Draco's lap and backed away from him toward the door.

"You will be free of your bonds and will be able to retrieve your wand in thirty minutes time." Draco made to interrupt her but she held up her hand to silence him as she opened the door now at her back. "We have nothing more to say to each other. Goodbye, Draco," she said without emotion. And then she was gone.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter 19: present day, two hours later

Thankful for the cover of darkness, Hermione cautiously stepped from the shadows to advance quickly and quietly to her destination. "Lumos," she muttered and her wand emitted a faint blue light. A cool mist had begun to fall from the sky, but she ignored it as she focused on the stones around her. "He must be here," she told herself as she scanned them frantically. "Bones, Bulstrode, Finnegan, Thomas," she read as she swept her gaze between the rows. And then she stopped. "Weasley," she whispered before crouching to her knees. "Ronald Weasley. Our son and our friend. We will never forget your courage," she read as she teared up.

"Oh, Ron," she sighed with the wind. "Can you ever forgive me?" She wrapped her arms around her to ward off a shiver. "It was my fault you were in the Manor tunnels that night. If I had been stronger, I would have gone alone. If I had been smarter, I would have taken another Auror. Oh, Ron," she said once more. "I never gave you what you deserved. I was never what you believed me to be. I wasn't pure. And I wasn't giving. I was selfish and needy. And I should have been better to you. All those years ago, when I lost myself to…" she broke to wipe at her tears. "You were so good after all of it…picking up the slack in our friendship when Harry died. And you helped me back from the dark place where I tried to hide. I _did_ love you, Ron," she told his headstone firmly. "I would have made a life with you and given you a family one day. It's just…" she stopped as she hung her head in shame. "You knew, didn't you?" she asked the emptiness as if Ron could hear her. "All along, you knew I still had feelings… hope… that he might…and yet, you still wanted to be with me." She reached out her hand to touch Ron's name, engraved in a beautiful script. "I didn't deserve your love, Ron. You were too good for me. And still you loved me anyway." She looked around her then at the dying flowers scattered about his grave. "And look where it got you…where _I_ got you." Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried to stop the emotion welling up inside of her. "I'm so sorry, Ron," she cried as dropped her head to her chest, covering her eyes with her hands. "So eternally sorry that it couldn't have been different…that I couldn't have been what you wanted…what you deserved. I'd do anything to give you back your life and happiness…true happiness…even if it meant dying in your place."

"I think he knows that, 'Mione," a deep voice sounded behind her.

With a started cry, Hermione rose and whirled, wand already drawn and pointed at the stranger she faced. "Who are you?" she demanded. "How do you know me?"

"Don't be alarmed," he said gently, trying to soothe the fear from the beautiful woman he knew as a girl. "I won't hurt you."

"Who are you?" she asked again, this time in a softer voice. Although she didn't recognize his face, something about him seemed so familiar…somehow comforting.

Slowly, so as not to startle the anguished woman into doing something foolish, the man raised his right hand in front of him, palm to his face and fingers spread. "_Finite Incantatem_," he whispered. And with a flick of his wrist, his glamour disappeared.

"Dear God," Hermione gasped as she tried to wrap her mind around what she was seeing. "But how? I don't…" she fumbled as she lowered her wand and shook her head to clear it of this optical illusion. But when the man didn't change again or disappear, she broke into a huge smile and threw herself into his warm embrace. "Harry!"

/-/-/-/

Draco approached the aged figure lying in the oversized iron bed among many pillows and quilts. Even close to death, the man maintained an aura of strength, of wisdom, and of love. For the thousandth time, Draco wondered what his life would have been like if this man had been his father. What choices might he have made? What opportunities might he have been afforded? What friends might he have found and kept close? What love…? Draco dismissed the thought of Hermione from his mind. She was gone. He had failed his headmaster, his friend. And even if someone else could find her again, even if she returned, she would never again see or speak to him. He had lost her forever.

"Draco?" the quiet voice of Albus Dumbledore reached his ears. "Did you find her? Did you speak with Hermione?"

Draco nodded but made no effort to explain. He was ashamed.

"Ah, I see," the wise wizard replied to Draco's gesture. "She didn't believe you then?"

"No, sir," Draco confessed.

"Did you not take the chance to explain, Draco?" the wizard peered over his spectacles at the defeated man in front of him. "Did she not listen?"

"I tried, sir," he began. "She was so angry with me. Just as I knew she would be. I told her I had come at your behest. But she wouldn't believe that you could trust me after... Instead of listening to me, we argued." He turned from Dumbledore then to hide his embarrassment. "She won."

Dumbledore hid a small chuckle behind his covers.

"I told her about my betrayal of her during our sixth year. I explained what Voldemort did to me. But it didn't matter. She couldn't forgive me."

"So you didn't tell her about the last fifteen years, I'm assuming."

Draco shook his head again. "The only information she wanted from me was about the deaths of Ron and Harry." Draco swiped absently at a tear, not noticing the uncomfortable look that passed over Dumbledore's face. "So I told her the truth – what little I knew of parts of it. It was the least I could do for her."

"And still she refused to trust you with my request she return?" Dumbledore felt so sorry for the man he had grown close to over recent years.

Draco colored slightly. "I didn't actually get around to telling her you needed her, sir." Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "But it's worse," Draco admitted before hanging his head. Dumbledore waited patiently for Draco to get up the courage to speak once more. "I ran her off," he whispered, desperately wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco leveled his gaze upon his mentor to face the music. "I said that I ran her off. I frightened her. I upset her. I confused her. And now she's gone." He shifted his weight from foot to foot before admitting total defeat. "She's gone and it's all my fault…and I have no idea where she is to be found. I'm sorry."

"Never fear, Draco," Dumbledore calmly replied. "I have a feeling your visit may have stirred too many feelings and questions within our dear Hermione to keep her away for long." He smiled at Draco then. "In fact, I shouldn't be surprised if she sought me out herself to get to the bottom of things! Lemon drop?" he asked as he gestured to the chair next to his bed.

"No thank you," Draco replied before settling in for what promised to be a long debriefing.

/-/-/-/

"It's so good to see you again, 'Mione," Harry said as he returned her enthusiastic hug. "Merlin, I have missed you." Together they stood, still against the night, content to reclaim a peace they had so long ago lost. "Not that I thought we'd meet here of all places," he chuckled as he looked about them. "I was actually expecting to see you back at Hogwarts a little later this evening. But here will do. Ron would be glad to know we were all together again for a little while." Hermione pulled abruptly away at his words to look into his face. Her eyes were so full of confusion, pain, and questions that Harry, himself, was thrown into temporary confusion. "Didn't you get Dumbledore's summons?" he asked her quietly.

"Wait," her brow furrowed even deeper. "What?"

"Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore sent him as his emissary with a message for you today. You are needed at Hogwarts." Harry watched as Hermione struggled with the new information. "I just figured you were on your way there."

"You mean Dumbledore really did send Malfoy to me?" Hermione asked in astonishment. At Harry's nod, Hermione turned her back in anger on Harry and stomped to the nearest bench where she sat and promptly covered her face with her hands and moaned. "This can't be real," she said to herself. "Harry isn't here. Harry is dead. There are a million good reasons why I would think I was seeing Harry. Malfoy's visit took me surprise. I haven't eaten all day. I just got done crying for hours over some silly photos. I'm having to run again. I'm overwhelmed at being this close to Ron's grave." Hermione sighed and removed her hands from her face, but kept her eyes closed. "Alright," she continued to herself. "Relax. When you open your eyes, Harry will be gone and you can say goodbye to Ron and then get on with your life."

At that, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes to see Harry standing patiently in front of her. "That does it!" she yelled at the man in front of her. "Either I am completely mental or you are truly here."

"It's really me, Hermione," Harry said as he crouched down in front of her. "You're not mental." He smirked then. "Although in school I used to think that was true from time to time."

"In that case," she narrowed her eyes and adopted her best _Mrs. Weasley_ tone, "Harry James Potter," she admonished him, "you had better explain to me right this minute why you aren't dead, where you have been all of these years, why you never tried to contact me, and why you seem to have nothing better to do at this moment than try to convince me that Draco Malfoy is anything but a deceptive, foul, sneaky, lying, manipulative, loathsome son-of-a…"

"'Mione!" Harry stopped her ranting before gently cupping her face with his hands. "I know you have a million questions. But I don't think I'm the right person to supply you with all of the answers."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry silenced her with a look.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her before smiling the impish smile she remembered from his boyhood.

"You know I do, Harry," she replied, her smile mirroring his own.

"Then come with me," he said. "To Hogwarts." He stood then and extended his hand. "I know that Dumbledore is very anxious to see you."

/-/-/-/

After listening at great length to what had transpired with Hermione, Dumbledore had begun to nod. Begging Draco's pardon for feeling the need to rest, the elder wizard asked Draco to make himself comfortable in the adjoining sitting room. Draco had readily agreed. For some reason he felt better knowing that he was near, just in case he was immediately needed. And so, thirty minutes later, Draco found himself sipping tea as he gazed morosely into the fire in front of him. He was brooding over Hermione again…and too wrapped up in his own thoughts to hear the outer door to Dumbledore's bedroom open.

"Albus?" Hermione softly called before fully entering the room. Carefully, she stepped across the threshold to see her former headmaster, paler and more frail than she had ever seen him, tucked into his bed with the covers drawn up nearly to his chin. Silently she crossed to the chair next to his bed and removed her cloak. Pulling the chair closer to the bed, she sat down before gently reaching out to touch his hand. "Albus?" she asked again. And he opened his eyes.

"Hermione," he whispered gladly, the old twinkle back in his eyes. "I knew you would come," he affirmed before covering her hand with his other.

Muffled voices from the bedroom had Draco up from his chair in a flash. Albus hadn't mentioned visitors. Draco knew all danger was passed, but old fears were slow to fade away. And so he drew his wand as he slowly approached the doorway. The site before him had him catching his breath. Hermione, looking like an angel in the low candlelight, smiled as she chatted quietly with the man they had all grown to love and respect. He felt a tug at his heart as he watched her but held his need to move closer to her in check. Just then, the outer door opened once more to allow entrance to a fourth party. And before Draco had a chance to think, he found himself face to face with someone he thought dead for years.

"Hello, Malfoy," Harry said cautiously. "It's been a long time."

"Potter?" Draco asked in astonishment as Hermione whirled from her position to face the men behind her. "How?" was all the thought he could give to forming a sentence.

"Draco?" she asked, not believing he should really be here. What was going on?

The room crackled with silent electricity until a small clearing of the throat turned everyone's focus back to Dumbledore. "Well," he said in an amused voice. "Now that we have all been reacquainted, perhaps it's high time I did a little explaining."


	21. Chapter Twenty

Chapter 20: present day, continuation

After floating additional chairs from the sitting room, the three former schoolmates settled in around Dumbledore's bed – Hermione to his right, Draco to his left, and Harry at the foot. The tension in the room was palpable as gazes darted to and fro. "I suppose," Dumbledore quietly began, "that you each have a number of questions. But," he paused to look them each in the eye, "I would appreciate your indulgence of an old man by letting me tell you first why I have brought you all together." Silent nods from his students-turned-colleagues allowed him a moment to close his eyes and gather his thoughts.

"The simple fact is, I am dying and I wish to leave Hogwarts in the most capable hands possible." At her small sound of sorrow, Dumbledore turned to Hermione. "Dear girl," he gazed on her with tenderness, "Minerva has tendered her resignation and it is you whom I desire to see in her post of Transfiguration professor and head of Gryffindor house."

Hermione's shock was quickly replaced by confusion as she reached out to grasp her beloved headmaster's hand. "But, Albus, I don't understand…" she began only to be gently shushed by the look in his eyes. "Forgive me," she whispered. "Please go on."

Turning his gaze to Draco, Dumbledore continued. "Young, Mister Malfoy," he paused to grin. "With the promotion of Severus to Headmaster, I find myself needing a strong Potions professor and head of Slytherin house. I can think of none better to foot the bill." Draco nodded gravely, marveling once more at the faith the wizened man put in him.

"And, Harry," Dumbledore turned his attention to his third guest. "Though Voldemort's reign is a thing of the past, dark magic will always find a way to permeate our society. And so, I ask you to teach our youth wisely in your new position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. In addition, I happen to know a certain Quidditch coach who grows more weary of the challenges with each passing year and would enjoy having a hand with the students and their matches." He winked like a youngster at Harry and earned an impish smile in return.

"You can count on us, Albus," Harry said firmly.

"We won't let you down," Draco agreed.

All eyes turned to Hermione. "But, Albus," she began again in earnest. "How in the world can you expect me to return when my presence would put so many at risk?"

"There is no more danger, Hermione," Albus reassured her as he squeezed the hand holding his. "As I mentioned just now to Harry, Voldemort's reign is a thing of the past."

She chewed on her bottom lip and pursed her brows as she considered the gravity of his words. "Then all of his followers are gone?" she asked, scarcely daring to breathe. At Dumbledore's solemn nod, Hermione flushed with shame. Draco hadn't been lying to her. Lucius couldn't have sent him to harm her if he was…he would have to be…

"Lucius died over a month ago," Draco's voice broke into Hermione's thoughts like a slap, forcing her to look at him. "He should have been committed to St. Mungo's years ago. Dementia. Paranoia. Schizophrenia. I wasn't prepared to care for him myself. But he wouldn't allow me to seek help. And I refused to abandon him." Draco couldn't go on as he tried to remain stoic about the long ordeal.

Hermione felt a lone tear trickle down her cheek as she searched Draco's eyes for some sort of forgiveness. "I'm sorry," was all she managed to whisper before they broke their gaze simultaneously to look down into their laps.

Dumbledore allowed the awkward silence to continue for a moment more, catching Harry's attention with a raised brow. Looking quickly between the two bowed heads and back to Harry again, he communicated a silent request. _Look after them_. And Harry nodded in understanding.

"I suppose I should get on with my explanations," Albus said. Three sets of eyes trained themselves on his face as he took a deep breath. "We'll begin with Harry, then. It was the night of the battle and we each had a job. Mine, you may recall, was to keep as last line of defense against the castle doors. It was from there I watched the four of you fight your way to the ridge. And when you had gone a sufficient distance, I turned my post over to a number of Aurors in order to follow at a safe distance. After all, I couldn't risk being detected by Voldemort…or by any of you for that matter."

_Albus raced with a speed meritorious of a man half his age. Deftly, he moved over roots and boulders, through mire and undergrowth, until the rise of the ridge was in sight. Ahead of him he saw Lucius Malfoy surprise the trio standing sentinel to Harry. Silently, he watched as both Ron and Hermione fell to Draco's magic. He knew they would be physically fine if guarded well from the remainder of the battle. It was the mental and emotional anguish he felt sure they would suffer that caused his heart pain. But Harry… He had to stop Lucius before the villainous man distracted Harry, thus tipping the scales in Voldemort's favor. He couldn't let Harry die._

_Forging ahead with his mission clear, the revered wizard nearly met his own end as a flash of green light whizzed past his head. Spinning back, Albus found himself engaged in battle with a hooded Death Eater. And this one was strong. "Merlin, help me," Albus thought as he sensed his time to help Harry running out. Back and forth the upper hand was snatched until, at long last, Albus triumphed over his opponent...and Bellatrix Lestrange lay dead at his feet. Without another thought, he spun once more and sprinted up the ridge. What he saw took his breath away. _

_Harry and Voldemort were at a stale mate. Wands locked, their magic cancelled each other out as the force of their struggle for dominance was slowly ebbing all of their remaining strength. Lucius, triumph in sight, took that moment to call out to his master. "My Lord," he cried, startling the Dark Lord as he raised his wand to Harry. At that moment, the wand connection between Voldemort and Harry was broken and the younger man hollered the killing curse at Voldemort. Outraged and stunned, Lucius screamed the first spell to enter his head and was thrown back as a large explosion rocked the place where Harry had once stood. And when he had recovered himself, Lucius could honestly say he had no idea what had happened. And so when asked by his son, he claimed victory. It was easier. _

_Breathing heavily from the exertion of the past minutes, Albus lowered his wand as he watched Draco and Lucius flee the ridge. "Please let it have worked," was all he could utter before turning to reawaken the stunned forms of Hermione and Ron._

"I don't understand," Hermione whispered as Dumbledore's voice faded. "What happened to Harry, Albus?"

"That, my dear girl, was the question, which haunted me for years. You see, the spell I cast on Harry in those last moments was a combination glamour and transport. Despite my distractions that night, Imanaged to reach Harry seconds before Lucius and, when Lucius threw his spell, he assumed Harry died in the explosion. What I prayed for, what actually turned out to be true, was that Harry had been transported to St. Mungo's – with a new physical identity – for care and recovery."

He broke into a light chuckle. "It was a fool-proof plan, I thought. However, once the dust had settled, I found myself facing an entire ward of patients with so many hexes, curses, and spells working on them, I wasn't entirely sure Harry was among them. You see, in order to keep him safe should anyone discover my plan, I concocted a glamour not even I would be able to break. It took the better part of ten years to heal every last person in the ward enough so they could be identified and, therefore, ruled out as not Harry. And when at last I found him, I had him moved to a special Unspeakables ward of the hospital. I couldn't have anyone asking questions about our unidentified soldier – not until all was safe again. And it was there, for the next four years, I spent what time I wasn't needed at Hogwarts working with Harry and his healers to restore him completely to health – mind, body, and spirit."

"Dear Lord," Hermione gasped at Harry's circumstances before she turned to him with tears in her eyes. "That means you've been well for a year, Harry," she said.

Knowing his best friend well enough to understand the question she would not ask him, Harry cleared his throat. "They weren't all gone, Hermione…the Death Eaters. I couldn't come fully out of hiding until they were. And so I reentered the world under the cover of my glamour."

"Harry has been assisting me for the past year to pinpoint the locations of the remaining Voldemort loyalists," Dumbledore's voice recaptured Hermione's attention. As an unknown, he could blend into crowds or disappear down dark alleys without anyone being the wiser.

"While Lucius was still alive," Harry continued to explain, "there was hope among Voldemort's followers that the Dark could rise again to power." Harry paused, his eyes flicking quickly in Draco's direction."That's why Ineeded to maintain my secrecy."

Hermione trained her gaze to Draco's eyes but they were unreadable as he had them lowered in the candlelight. Still, he knew she expected to hear from him. "My father wanted me to reign and he was quite vocal about it. Those remaining were biding their time, looking to me for answers and leadership." He snorted as his lips curled into the sneer of his youth. "How they could have believed I would ever take up the cause of a piece of filth like Voldemort is beyond even my comprehension." He shook his head slightly, lost in his own thoughts.

"Although they never worked together, they made an excellent team," Dumbledore finished. "What information Harry was unable to provide,Draco was able to supply." Hermione frowned at this, only to be snared again by Harry's voice.

"And it wasn't easy, Hermione," Harry admitted. "Waking up as someone I didn't know. Being unable to communicate for so long. Finding out I'd lost so many years of my life. Learning of Ron's death and your disappearance. Struggling to regain my abilities. Hoping to regain some semblance of my life."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione cried as she crossed to him. Rising, he caught her in a ferocious hug. "I'm so glad you're alive and so desperately sorry I wasn't there to help you." Tears ran down her face as she clung to him.

"It's alright, 'Mione," he soothed as he stroked her hair. "We're both back now and we'll always have each other to lean on." Pulling her back to look into her face, he grinned. "And since we'll be back at Hogwarts together, I predict we'll be pulling one another out of a number of good scrapes yet!" Hermione nodded as she smiled and then…

Whirling back to stare at Draco with wide eyes, she addressed her next query to her headmaster when Draco refused to acknowledge her gaze. "What did you mean when you said that Draco was able to supply information, Albus?"

Dumbledore hesitated for only a moment before simply stating, "I believe Draco should explain that to you himself, Hermione."


	22. Chapter Twenty One

Chapter 21: Six Months Later

The death of Albus Dumbledore five months ago had shaken the foundations of the wizarding community. And yet, witch and wizard alike pulled together to see that the good work of this amazing man was carried on – from technical workings in the ministry to individuals acting in simple ways in their own lives and homes. Hermione looked down at the grave of her beloved Headmaster and smiled as she remembered him. In his life he had been full of mystery and fun. She prayed that wherever he was, he was able to continue to enjoy a bit of mischief now and again.

"You always did think life was a game to be played, didn't you?" she murmured to his headstone. "Sometimes it was amusing." She broke for a moment as she thought back. "And sometimes it wasn't."

_Draco finished his tale. A fantastical web of fragile silk threads. Spying on his father and his father's associates. The dangerous passing of information to Dumbledore in the dead of night. Paying women to pretend – to keep up appearances – but not to get too close – and not to ask questions. Laying traps. Picking up the pieces of yet another end game gone awry. Caring for the demented mind and the decaying body of a father he did not love. Focusing on justice while longing for peace. Risking life and limb for just an occasional glimpse of her – the woman and the happiness he could not himself have. Regretting…_

_The room was heavy with unspoken emotion. No one moved and scarcely did they breathe, so wrapped up in their own thoughts were they. Until, "__Now, that we have that cleared up, I suppose I should turn my story to you, Hermione." He reached for her hand was immediately rewarded when she placed it in his own. "Dear girl, what an amazing student you were in your day. And then, so strong as an Auror. Together you and Ron held the Light together as an inspiration after Harry…well, after Harry was presumed dead. You see, so many cared so deeply for the three of you that once we realized you were as determined as ever to do what was right, our energies were doubled time and again to continue our fight against the remaining Death Eaters. _

_Countless hours were poured into your healing that summer after the war. And then more hours dedicated to your training and education during your seventh year. Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, Sprout, and I spent our days monitoring your progress and our nights discussing ways to encourage you to pursue the Auror track. You were so gifted. And once you found your way back to health after the war, you were so determined. We wanted to do everything we could to assist you in your quest for justice. For you. And for us. And you didn't let us down. You were the smartest witch to ever graduate from Hogwarts, and one of the best Aurors ever to graduate from the Academy. I was so proud of you and of your work."_

_He watched as Hermione smiled and blushed demurely. "The last morning I saw you, when you came to me to be your secret keeper, there were so many things I wanted to tell you. But it wasn't the right time. Unfortunately, I had to let you go from our world in order to keep you safe until it was the right time to return."_

"_But, Albus," Hermione said. "I didn't want to return. I made that quite clear. I needed to make a new life, to keep those here I loved safe, to finally forget…" She broke before giving into the emotions she did not want to show._

"_I know, dear one," he said as he patted her hand. "And my promise to let your location pass with me was one I made from my heart…because at the time I thought it might be for the best. But sometimes circumstances work out better than we had hoped. And I needed to call you back so you could make the choice to stay…if you wanted to…once you knew the entirety of the truth." He smiled at Hermione's confused countenance. "But we shall come back to that decision shortly." _

_Dumbledore then turned his attention to Draco. "Draco, you were always such an enigma to watch through your young years. Even before you came to me for protection in your sixth year, I had seen the good in you. I was always on the lookout for a way to approach you, to offer my assistance, but I knew that you would never truly listen until you were ready. And I'm so glad that you finally came to me on your own. Or should I say, with the help of one very loyal and loving witch?" He smiled as Draco colored and Hermione sputtered. "And though you made some unfortunate decisions shortly thereafter, I would not trade these last years with you for the Sorcerer's stone, itself. You have been brave. You have been self-sacrificing. And I am proud to count you among my friends. _

"_But," he faltered slightly, "I cannot say that I have treated you any more fairly than I have Ms. Granger." He paused then to look from Draco to Hermione and back again. "I arranged for you to bring Hermione to me this evening so that I could not only tell her the truth, but to tell you the truth as well."_

"_Sir?" he questioned, with a tilt of his head, waiting for his mentor to continue. But Hermione's sharp intake of breath drew his attention across the room._

"_Albus, no," she whispered as the realization of the meaning behind his words hit her. Swiftly she stood and circled behind her chair, gripping the back as if for dear life. Fighting against the knot in her stomach she asked the question to which she wasn't sure she wanted an answer. "Please tell me I'm wrong," she nearly begged him._

_Sighing deeply, the headmaster could only shake his head in affirmation._

"_What," Draco asked, looking back and forth between them. "What's going on?"_

_Hermione immediately began pacing the small room in anger. "How could I have been so stupid?" she muttered to herself. "The warning should have been enough, but of course I was too blind to see what was happening in front of me." Harry and Draco watched in fascination as Hermione scolded herself with every step. "And then the battle announcement…the 'inside source'…him not being there…if only I had put it all together. But then," she turned to Albus once more. "But then, if I had, I wouldn't have followed through on your master plan would I have, Sir?" The venom in her voice was ill-concealed and the headmaster winced despite his efforts to the contrary. "After all the trust we put in you. Your cryptic directions. Your strange requests. We always did what you asked of us. And still…how could you?" she demanded in a low voice._

_Again, no one moved or spoke as the tension nearly choked the inhabitants of the small room. Until, finally, Dumbledore spoke. "It was what I had to do to keep you – to keep us all - safe."_

_Hermione snorted in disgust as Draco looked bath and forth in confusion. "What do mean, Hermione?" he asked. "What did he do?"_

"_Isn't it obvious?" she asked with a mixture of pain and ice in her voice. "He used us. Both of us." She narrowed her eyes at the headmaster. "You warned me that day in your office. You told me they would try to get to him through me. And yet, I didn't want to see what was happening. Every time he was abducted. I was too in love to understand that our secrets were being coerced from him to serve Voldemort. But then, why should I? I never had reason to imagine something so horrible." She broke and checked Draco with a measuring gaze before turning back to Dumbledore. "But you didn't have to imagine, did you, Sir? You didn't imagine because you knew."_

"_In all fairness, Hermione, I did not know of the plot to use Draco that day in my office. I was merely trying to issue you a warning so you would be diligent."_

"_Perhaps not," she cut him off. "But you knew afterward, didn't you? After his abductions started?"_

"_But how?" Draco asked when Albus did not refute Hermione's words._

"_Snape," Hermione answered him. "The double agent who witnessed your every abduction and reported back to our headmaster about what had been revealed."_

_Draco paled as he turned his questioning gaze to Albus. "No," was all he whispered._

"_Oh yes," Hermione continued. "How else could Albus have known the plot to get Ron and me out of the way so Lucius could get to Harry during the battle?" She broke to pinch the bridge of her nose. Her voice was smaller when she next spoke. "The night before the war, Dumbledore told us that his inside sources had just confirmed the start of the war the next day." She opened her eyes and shared a pained moment with Draco. "Don't you see? Snape was at the meeting where you were given your memories back. Snape told Dumbledore of the war and of your part in it." _

_Hermione turned back to Dumbledore. "And then he still did nothing to help you. Or us." She choked then as she fell into her chair. "And he allowed me to give myself to you that night knowing you would destroy me the next day."_

"_Hermione, I had no way of knowing what would transpire between the two of you the night before the war," Dumbledore gently protested, only to be cut off by Draco this time._

"_But when I contacted you after the war I had to beg you to believe my story," Draco turned to the headmaster again. "You couldn't have known all along. It's just not possible!"_

"_I'm afraid it is, son," he said. "I couldn't tell you the truth – that I knew you had always been innocent – when I still needed your help."_

"_And mine," Hermione whispered so softly all in the room had to strain to hear her. And then she laughed – a bitter and angry laugh that sent chills down Draco's spine. "You didn't support me in my quest to become an Auror, Albus," she managed to get out as her laughter turned to tears. "It was you who pushed me to become an Auror…you who suggested that justice was the only way to honor Harry and the others who had fallen." She wiped away her tears as she stood and put her cloak on once more. "And when I graduated from the Academy, it was you who suggested I ask for the assignment to tail Draco."_

_She turned her attention to Draco once more. "Were you in on that plot development Draco? Or were you still his pawn? Did you know I was following you all that time? Did you drop crumbs of information because you felt sorry for me? Or was it just another movement orchestrated by our illustrious headmaster here? One in which I had to suffer through your every alleged conquest and one in which the love I still harbored for you turned to hate because of your actions?" _

_Draco stared with a face of stone back at the woman he loved. His mind didn't want to operate. It wasn't possible, these things she was saying. Not possible that his life was destroyed not only by his own father but also by the person he most wished to be his father. Not knowing anything other than the need for escape, Draco quickly and quietly skirted around Hermione and headed out of the headmaster's quarters. Hermione turned her angry gaze upon Albus once more before sadly bidding Harry good night and exiting as well._

"You are so lucky that you had a month to talk us out of hating you forever," she whispered as she leaned low over the gravestone. "But then, you always were good at negotiating your way around a situation, eh?" She chuckled then, as she straightened. "I do have news," she continued. "I know about the promise you asked of Harry and I want you to know that he's taken good care of both Draco and me." She raised her focus to see a figure exit the castle and head in her direction. "It hasn't been easy," she continued, "but we've learned to live again." She fingered the delicate bauble on the chain around her neck. "And we've learned to love."

Again, she leaned down – this time to place a small bag of lemon drops at the base of the headstone. "Thank you, Albus," she whispered before turning into the embrace of her one true love.

"Are you alright, 'Mione?" he asked.

She nodded happily as she leaned up to place her lips gently on Draco's. "Just finishing up a bit of business," she said before kissing him once more with a deeper passion.

"Are you ready, then?" he asked as he grinned down at her.

"As I'll ever be," she said before they walked away hand in hand.

"You know," his voice was fading the further they got from the cemetery. "Flying with you in my dreams was always wonderful, but being able to fly with you for real will be out of this world." And as they began to disappear beyond the ridge, she could be seen squeezing his hand tightly in her own.


End file.
